


Best That We Can

by knittedace



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Aphobia, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Everyone is Asexual Because I Said So, F/M, Gen, Spoilers for Vol 2, Team as Family, post-vol 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittedace/pseuds/knittedace
Summary: Gamora’s certain their unspoken thing can never work out. Peter's trying to fix their damaged friendship while going through an identity crisis. Rocket's learning how to be part of a family, Kraglin's dealing with his guilt,  Mantis is figuring out her place in the team, Groot’s growing up, and Drax just wants to fight stuff. And their messed up family might have slightly more in common than any of them realise.





	1. How About You?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! This fic is almost finished. The final draft is currently getting its last polish from my beta memorydragon, and chapters will be added as and when they’re ready to go - I’m aiming to update at least once a week at minimum. A ton of thanks to [memorydragon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoryDragon/pseuds/MemoryDragon) as well as [coffee_mage](http://archiveofourown.org/users/coffee_mage/pseuds/coffee_mage), Erin, and the Cuddlepile. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> **Warnings:** This fic contains the following: aphobia, in a number of different forms including internalised aphobia; non-explicit reference to non-consensual and dubiously-consensual sex; canon-typical violence; some blood/gore; non-explicit offscreen torture; references to canonical character death. Contains spoilers for both films. If you have any questions about these warnings or about other possible content, please leave me a comment or send an ask on [tumblr.](http://knittedace.tumblr.com/ask)

‘Gamora, wait-’

She didn’t wait, though she could hear Peter’s footsteps following her down the Milano’s corridor. Walking away from the conversation put a twist of guilt in her stomach, but she’d said everything she had to say. She knew Peter wanted more, wanted a reason, but she couldn’t give him one.

‘Is it something I did? Or something I didn’t do? I can fix it, if you just tell me-’

‘It’s nothing like that,’ she said, before he started to blame himself. There were plenty of things that annoyed her about Peter, like his inability to pick up his dirty underwear or stop bickering with Rocket in life-threatening situations, but somehow none of them had put her off the idea of dating him. Which was why she hadn’t told him they could never work together before now. She’d wanted to enjoy the possibility for a while, before acknowledging that it had never really been possible in the first place.

‘Is it because you don’t want to make things weird? Because we live with a tree and a raccoon and everyone else, our lives are pretty weird already-’

Gamora stepped into the ship’s kitchen. Drax was sitting in a corner, peeling vegetables with the same knives he used in battle. Not the ideal person, but better than no one. ‘Hi, Drax. What are you making?’ Gamora asked.

‘Look, I’m not… I just want to understand,’ Peter said Gamora closed her eyes, deliberately not looking round at him. She could already imagine his kicked-puppy expression perfectly well without seeing it for herself.

‘What is Gamora not telling you?’ Drax asked.

‘It’s nothing, Drax-’

‘She doesn’t want to date me.’ 

‘Dating someone means becoming their romantic and sexual partner,’ Gamora explained, before Drax could say anything about calendars. She wasn’t going to be able to escape this conversation was she? She turned round, arms folded across her chest, chin raised.

‘That is obvious. I told you already, Quill. You dance,’ he said, pointing to Peter, and then to Gamora. ‘She does not. You would be terrible together.’

Gamora wondered if Drax had finally embraced the use of metaphor - and simultaneously developed an uncanny ability to guess people’s orientations. ‘Excuse me?’

‘There are two types of people in the world. Those who dance, and those who do not dance. They should not date each other,’ Drax said, leaving Gamora none the wiser.

Peter didn’t look impressed either. ‘Well, thanks for the advice, Love Guru, but-’

‘You are welcome.’

Peter gave Drax a bemused look, before giving up and turning back to Gamora. ‘I thought we had an unspoken something. You said we did too. And I kind of figured, after everything was settled... we’d talk about it. And then you just say it’ll never work out?’ His hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach out for her but was holding himself back. ‘Can’t you at least tell me why?’

She was going to have to. She closed her eyes for a moment, contemplating exactly how badly the conversation was going to go, and then opened her eyes again and said, ‘Because you want to have sex.’

He frowned at her for a moment, as though he expected her to say something else. ‘That’s it? Come on, I’m not that obsessed with sex. If you want to wait-’

‘I don’t want sex. At all. Ever,’ she said, because if she was going to tell him this then she wasn’t leaving any room for misinterpretation. ‘I’m not attracted to people in that way. I do not, and never will, have any desire to have sex with you. Or with anyone. And that is why we wouldn’t work out.’

She bit back the urge to apologise, because she had nothing to apologise for. Drax put down the knife, looking interested, but she barely paid him any attention. It was Peter’s frown she was concerned with. ‘But everyone wants sex,’ he said. ‘It’s a universal constant. Except in species that, like, clone themselves or have spores or things...’ he added, eyes running over her.

She crossed her arms and repressed the urge to roll her eyes. ‘My species reproduces the same way yours does. I’m simply not interested.’

‘That’s not possible, then,’ Peter said. ‘Everyone has sex. Why - why wouldn’t you want to have sex? Unless - did something... happen while you were with Thanos?’

‘No! Nothing happened, as you put it. I. Am. Not. Interested.’ If Peter had been anyone outside their strange little family, she would have been tempted to put a knife through some part of his anatomy by now. He opened his mouth to say something else stupid, but Drax interrupted him.

‘For one who has had intercourse with so many women, you are extremely ignorant about sex.’

Peter scowled. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘What Gamora describes is common in many different species,’ Drax said, picking up the knife and slowly, carefully slicing off a strip of a caeron root. ‘I, myself, am not interested in anyone either.’

Gamora blinked, momentarily surprised. Peter stared at him in something oddly like betrayal. ‘You what? But - come on, you had a wife! You told me your nether regions got engorged when she didn’t dance!’

Drax shrugged. ‘I knew you would react as you are reacting to Gamora now. I did not wish to deal with your boorish ignorance., he explained, and then looked at Gamora. ‘You should not have told him the truth. Tell people you find them hideous instead, as I did with Mantis. It always works.’

‘...I’ll bear that in mind for the future.’

Peter was looking between them, wide-eyed and shaking his head. ‘You had a kid,’ he told Drax, and Gamora winced, because the crew generally didn’t bring Drax’s daughter up unless he did first. ‘You must have done the dirty - sorry, had sex - sometime.’

‘I could have done, but fortunately it was unnecessary. I simply masturbated into a cup and gave it to-’

‘Right, okay, thanks, I get the idea,’ Peter said, waving his hands to cut him off.

‘It was a beautiful and emotional experience,’ Drax said, shaking his head. ‘You humans are so strange.’

‘I’m the one who’s strange?’ Peter demanded. ‘You two are the ones who apparently don’t like sex.’ Gamora stared at him, long and hard, the kind of stare that usually made people remember who she had been raised by and what she had learnt there. It no longer seemed to work on Peter. ‘Sex is awesome. You’ll like it if you try it.’

Gamora kept her arms locked tightly across her chest, breathing in slow, easy patterns, because if she moved an inch she may very well lose her temper, and that would not end well for Peter. Drax spoke, and it didn’t escape her attention how he was keeping the peeling knife firmly in his grasp where it would be hard for her to take it from him. ‘Quill, I suggest you leave the room immediately. I do not believe I can hold back Gamora, should she attempt to rip your testicles off and feed them to you.’

That sounded like a lovely idea. Peter went slightly pale. ‘You know what, fine. I will. You just hang out here, being... weird. I’m going to go see if Rocket is back from getting the mail.’ And with that, he turned, and left the room.

Gamora let out a long, shuddering breath, and sat down in the seat opposite Drax, resting her head in her hands. She hadn’t expected it to go quite that badly. Or, to be more accurate, she hadn’t expected herself to react that badly. She’d heard the same comments before - the galaxy was full of idiots - and it had got to the point where it didn’t bother her much. But when it was Peter - Peter who she cared about, Peter who was family, Peter who she’d have flung herself back into certain death to rescue if Rocket hadn’t knocked her out - when it was Peter, it hurt. 

‘You were right,’ she said to Drax. ‘I shouldn’t have told him.’

‘I am always right,’ Drax said, nodding. ‘And Quill is very rarely right. He is not right about this.’

Gamora wished she had Drax’s confidence. She did have it, normally, but what Peter had said… Any words, repeated enough times, would crawl inside your skull and stick there. Her childhood had left her very familiar with that. ‘Why did you tell him?’ she asked. ‘You lied about it before. Why speak up now?’

‘He was upsetting you,’ Drax said. ‘Also, I feared you would gut him with my knife if I didn’t distract him.’

‘I was considering it. And thank you.’

‘If you need further distractions, let me know, Drax said, returning his attention to the roots. ‘He will probably continue to be an idiot.’

He would. Which would make things difficult, as small a crew as they were. But it would have to be Peter doing the apologising this time. Right now she could hardly bear the thought of speaking to him again. She was sure he would get over it: he had a good heart, despite being an idiot. But that didn’t mean his reaction hadn’t hurt.

‘I’m going to see if Mantis wants to train,’ she said, getting to her feet. It wouldn’t solve any of her problems, but a little physical exertion would at least wear the edge off her anger.

 *

 ‘Good,’ Gamora said, pulling Mantis up off the mats. ‘This time, pay more attention to your feet, alright?’

Mantis nodded, glancing down at her feet on the mats. Learning to fight was hard; she had never done anything like this before, but if she could stop other bad people like Ego, then she was happy to learn. And Gamora was a good teacher.

She settled into the ready position Gamora had taught her, making sure her feet were exactly right.  They were working on hand-to-hand combat, and the goal was for her to touch Gamora as though she were going to make her sleep. Although she would not actually do so, of course, because then the lesson would be over until Gamora woke up.

Gamora nodded to her. and she ran forward. Were her feet correct? She looked down at them, then remembered she was not supposed to take her eyes off Gamora, and looked up - 

Gamora grabbed her arm and flipped her over her shoulder; the room tumbled around Mantis until she landed flat on her back on the mats, blinking up at the ceiling. Gamora spun with the motion, fist coming down - Mantis flinched on instinct. But her fist landed on the mat near her head with a heavy thud. She looked almost as surprised as Mantis felt.

Mantis was not very good at determining emotions without touching someone, but at that moment she had a realisation. ‘You are angry!’

Gamora’s eyes went wide. ‘I told you never to read me!’ she snapped, pushing herself to her feet.

‘I didn’t!’ Mantis protested, sitting up. ‘I know you don’t like it. I could tell by looking at you.’ She’d been practising, learning to read emotions by faces, rather than by touch. She tilted her head to one side. ‘Why are you angry?’

Gamora sighed, pushing her hair back off her face. ‘It’s nothing you need to worry about. I just had a fight with Peter.’

‘Oh,’ said Mantis. ‘But I thought you were in love!’ She had definitely felt Peter’s love for Gamora. And even though Gamora did not let Mantis read her, she was quite sure Gamora felt the same. Why were they fighting?

Gamora turned away from her, which Mantis knew meant that she didn’t even want Mantis to be able to read her face. She didn’t know why Gamora wanted to hide her feelings so much, but she dutifully looked away. ‘Love isn’t that simple sometimes,’ she said. ‘It’s not going to work out.’

‘But...’ Mantis began, before remembering that she did not really understand things the same way the others did, because she had been a pet on Ego’s world and didn’t have enough experience. She was not a pet any more, and she was learning, but it was all very complicated, even more complicated than fighting. ‘I see. I am sorry, Gamora.’

‘We should get back to training,’ Gamora said. ‘This time, pay attention to your feet, but don’t forget about everything else.’ She offered Mantis a hand to help her up, and Mantis took it, resisting the temptation to read her emotions.

‘I will try,’ she said, and got back into ready position. Before they could start, they were interrupted by the door opening, and Rocket came in.

‘This had better be something good,’ he complained, lifting a parcel that was easily the size of his head and waving it at Gamora. ‘I had to drag it all the way back from Nova Corps, and it’s heavy.’ Drax had told her earlier that since it was difficult to get in contact with a ship that travelled all over the place, people sometimes left messages for them with the Nova Corps. But Mantis had not expected an actual parcel.

‘What is in it?’ she asked, stepping across the room, very curious. Gamora took it with a frown that quickly turned into a smile as she examined the packaging. ‘It’s from Nebula.’

‘The blue lady who is your sister?’ Mantis asked. Gamora nodded, finding where the package was sealed and carefully peeling it open without damaging the paper.

‘Just rip it off,’ Rocket said impatiently. ‘I got a dozen datachips from people to go look through for anything useful. Why’s she sending you presents anyway?’

‘I sent her a parcel a few weeks ago. I didn’t really expect to receive one back.’ Mantis had helped Gamora pick out some sweets to send, which had meant she got to taste a lot of them. They were all so delicious it had been hard to pick. The paper came off the parcel, and Gamora reached into it to pull out a datachip, which Mantis thought must have a message on. She put it into a pocket, and reached into the parcel again to pull out...

Mantis gave a little squeak and put her hands over her mouth. Gamora was holding a severed hand.

It was purple, and sealed inside a cube of some kind of clear substance, but it was very clearly a hand. Its fingers were curled inwards, and the place where it had been cut off was bloody and red. Mantis thought she could see bone. It was disgusting.

Rocket stared at it, then shook his head. ‘Your sister has issues.’

‘It almost certainly came from someone who deserved it,’ Gamora said, smiling as she turned the hand this way and that, looking in at it from different angles. ‘I’m sure she’ll tell me who it’s from in her message.’

‘Does it matter who it’s from? She sent you a severed hand! Most places, body parts through the post is a death threat.’

‘She is hunting Thanos. Most likely, it’s from one of his underlings, someone whose death was important to her. And she sent me her trophy,’ Gamora said, running her fingers over the outside of the cube. ‘It’s a very thoughtful gift.’

‘Right. If she tries to kill you in your sleep, don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ Rocket said, shaking his head. ‘I’m gonna look through the rest of these messages. Enjoy the severed hand.’

 *

  Technically Quill was supposed to go through the messages people had left them, him being the captain and all. But the instant he walked into the Milano’s cockpit, Rocket could tell he wasn’t going to be much use. As usual.

‘Gamora’s being so unreasonable,’ he said, sitting in one of the pilot seats and kicking his feet up on the dashboard.

‘Uh huh,’ Rocket said, rolling his eyes as he rummaged through the box the Nova Corps had given them. It was full of datachips, none of which looked any more promising than the others. He picked one at random and shoved it in the slot, letting the ship’s computer run a very extensive scan of its contents before playing. No one was sneaking a virus onto their ship.

‘She rejected me and now she’s the one acting angry at me?’

‘What idiot thing did you say to her this time?’ Rocket asked. Sounded like this was going to be a good one. Which couldn’t be said of the datachip; some middle-aged woman thanking them for stopping Ego. Thanks were nice, he guessed, but they weren’t making them units. He pulled it out and put it to one side, in case any of the other schmucks wanted to watch it, before replacing it with the next one.

‘I didn’t say anything! Why are you assuming this is all my fault?’ Rocket gave him one glance, and waited a few seconds. ‘Okay, I might have said a few things.’

‘I am Groot?’ Groot said from a corner of the room, where he was playing with a toy Rocket had made him out of some spare wire and coming close to getting himself horribly tangled in it. He roared - or attempted to - at the wire, and tried to bite it.

‘They’ll be fine, don’t worry about it,’ Rocket told him, and Groot went back to playing. Now, Rocket didn’t exactly want to encourage Peter to moan about his relationship issues: he wanted to get through these datachips and go back to doing something interesting, like building guns. But he’d probably said something really stupid and Rocket wanted to mock him for it. ‘So what did you say?’

‘Well, she said she didn’t want to date me, and I asked why, and she said - get this - she’s not interested in sex. Or attracted to anyone.’

Rocket took one look at Peter’s indignant expression and cracked up so hard he almost fell off the chair.

‘I know, right!’ Peter said. ‘It’s ridiculous. Who says something like that?’

Rocket clutched at his aching sides and tried to get his breathing under control. ‘Oh, that’s too good.’ he said. ‘I wasn’t laughing at her, you idiot, I was laughing at you.’

‘What?’

‘You spend all this time-’ he started to snicker again; he couldn’t help it ‘-mooning over Gamora and trying to score with her, and she - doesn’t even - want to!’ He curled into himself, pounding the seat of the chair with one fist. It was the funniest thing he’d heard all week, and Peter’s indignant expression just made it better whenever he looked at it.

‘Yeah, well,’ Peter said, curling into himself a little. ‘You’re not exactly popular with the ladies either.’

Weak comeback, right there. He was making it almost too easy today. ‘Why would I want to be?’ he asked, swapping over datachips again. ‘Have you seen what you gross hairless things look like? Yecch.’

‘I didn’t mean people that look human, dung-brain,’ Peter said. ‘What about the Ferril, or the Vrizzilin, or that one with all the Xs no one can pronounce?’

‘Hang on, this one looks like it might be interesting,’ Rocket said, skipping the datachip back to the beginning and turning up the volume. An Iriminian appeared on screen - they were easy to identify, being short and dark-skinned, except for the light blue patches around their eyes. This one was wearing cream clothes, formally cut, and had an air of business around themself that drew Rocket’s attention. ‘My greetings to the Guardians of the Galaxy,’ they said, managing to make the title sound kind of respectable instead of corny. ‘My name is Eori, and I am a dealer in information, based primarily on Knowhere. I have a proposition that I believe will be suitable for both of us.’

Rocket tried to listen, but Quill wouldn’t stop yapping. ‘Or the Zenovians, they look kind of like you. Except blue. But Gamora’s green and that’s never made a difference, so.’

‘Not interested,’ Rocket said, listening to the datachip. The Iriminian spoke pretty fancy; it took concentration to keep up.

‘There’s a slaver ring on Doratin which the Nova Corps has been aware of for some time, though they lack the evidence they need to take action,’ Eori was saying. ‘They would, of course, dearly like some evidence. I have a contact on Doratin who has some. She’s too scared to go to the Nova Corps herself, but she would speak to you.’

‘Wisani, then? Lorinians?’ Peter asked.

‘No. Aren’t you watching this thing?’

‘I can watch and talk.’

‘It would be a relatively simple mission. You would simply need to go to Gorova, meet with my contact, and bring the information back to the Nova Corps so they can handle it. As for payment - my contact also has information on the local economy which would be very valuable-’

‘So what kind of people are you into?’ Peter asked, apparently unable to keep his Terran mouth shut for more than five seconds at a time. Though there was something about the way he was asking it, a kind of edge in his voice that put a prickle up Rocket’s spine. 

Eh, like he cared. ‘I ain’t ever met anyone I was interested in that kind of thing with. Some of us have better things to do with our time than whatever gross things you get up to in bed, jerk.’

Peter stared at him for a few long seconds, then threw his hands up in the air. ‘Oh come on, not you too!’

‘What of it?’ Rocket snapped, because the way Peter was looking at him made him uncomfortable. He didn’t know why it mattered so much - it’d never mattered to anyone before, or at least not anyone that mattered - but he was very familiar with that look, in general.

It wasn’t a way Peter Quill was supposed to be looking at him.

‘Nothing,’ Peter said, settling back in his chair. ‘Except that apparently I’m surrounded by freaks-’

‘Who’re you calling a freak?’ Rocket demanded - heart suddenly pounding, feeling sick, and betrayal sitting at the back of his throat like he’d swallowed a rock. ‘I ain’t a freak!’

‘Woah, woah, sorry!’ Peter said, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I - I really didn’t mean that. I actually didn’t. This time, at least. I take it back.’

‘I am Groot?’ Groot asked, anxiously, from the other side of the room.

That was the only thing that stopped him screaming at Peter; Groot’s concern. He was just a kid right now. He’d get all upset, and then he’d probably try to fight someone. So Rocket swallowed the anger, and said, ‘It’s ok, Groot. And if that’s how you were talking to Gamora, Quill, I’m not surprised she’s mad at you, asshole.’

Peter actually winced. ‘Yeah. I did kind of mess up there. But seriously, everyone’s into someone. And now three of you are saying you’re just... not? It doesn’t make sense.’

‘That’s cause you’re the stupidest person I’ve ever had the bad luck to meet. And technically it’s four of us,’ Rocket said, as Groot scampered over to make sure they were alright. ‘Groot ain’t interested either.’

‘Well of course not, he’s just a kid,’ Peter said, hand hovering near Groot as he climbed up the chair, ready to catch him if he fell. 

‘Yeah, but he ain’t interested even when he’s all grown up. He’s a tree, doofus,’ Rocket said. ‘Trees don’t make kids like the rest of us do. They have...’ Rocket paused, not exactly certain of the details of how plants reproduced. ‘Flowers and pollen and stuff.’

‘I am Groot!’ Groot sat down on Peter’s stomach and concentrated very hard, growing a little white flower out of the top of his head.

‘That’s a great one, Groot,’ Peter praised him, and then looked back to Rocket. ‘Okay, that doesn’t count, that’s his entire species. The rest of you, you’re all from species that have sex. It’s evolution, it’s hardwired..’

‘Guess it ain’t hardwired into everyone.’

‘I am Groot,’ Groot said, nudging Peter and angling his head, offering him the flower. Peter smiled and picked it, then froze, staring at it in sudden horror.

‘I’ve just realised this is actually Groot’s... um, genitals.’

The look on his face made Rocket burst out laughing again. ‘Yep, it is. Now stick it behind your ear before he starts to think you don’t like it and gets all upset.’

 *

 ‘Hey losers, meeting on the flight deck in five,’ came Rocket’s voice over the speakers. ‘We’ve got a lead on a new job.’

Drax stirred the vegetables he was boiling and glanced over at the speaker, intrigued. Five minutes was not much notice, but he could turn off the heat and leave them in their pot while he went to learn more. He would have left them simmering on a low heat, but Rocket had modified the stove last week and he didn’t trust it.

He was one of the first to arrive, and settled in his usual seat while the others filtered in, Kraglin and Mantis following not far behind him. Peter had a flower in his hair and his headphones on, listening to music and only pausing to nod at them all as they came in. It was unusual for him to avoid conversation like that, and Drax wasn’t sure why until Gamora arrived, last of all. She fixed Peter briefly with a stare that Drax had seen her use to terrify warriors, and then looked away as though Peter were beneath her notice.

‘You have not yet apologised?’ he asked Peter, who looked blankly at him and waved at the headphones in his ears.

‘Sorry, can’t hear you,’ he said.

‘I’ve had enough of Quill’s love life issues,’ Rocket said, rolling his eyes and pulling one of the headphones out of Peter’s ear. ‘We’re here to talk business. Someone called Eori on Knowhere wants us to do a job.’

Rather than summarising, Rocket played their contact’s message back. A simple enough task, to collect information and return it. It seemed a good way to earn some money, and to help destroy a band of slavers as well.

‘I approve,’ Drax said nodding his head. ‘Although I would prefer to take down the slavers ourselves. I do not see why Nova Corps should have that glory.’

‘Sounds like it’s too big for us to take down alone,’ Peter said. ‘Nova Corps can take care of it, once they’ve got their evidence. Besides, as much as I like beating up the bad guys, that part of the job doesn’t pay.’

‘I still hope we get to fight at least some of the slavers,’ he said.

‘I am Groot?’ piped up Groot, from where he sat on Peter’s shoulder.

‘Groot isn’t sure we can trust them. Says their eyes look funny - seriously, Groot? That’s just how that species looks!’

‘Tree makes a good point, though,’ Kraglin spoke up. ‘Could be a trap.’

‘I know this Eori by reputation,’ Gamora said. She was still leaning against the door frame, not so much as looking at the side of the room that contained Peter. ‘They’re supposed to be a straight dealer. And if it is a trap, we’ll get out of it.’

‘Sounds good to me. Any other questions?’ Rocket asked; there were none.

‘Who thinks we should go for it?’ Peter asked, looking around the team. ‘I vote yes.’

‘I’m in,’ Gamora said. ‘I dislike slavers.’ With that, she turned and left the room

‘Gamora!’ Peter called out, but she ignored him.

‘She is very angry with you,’ Mantis said.

‘Yeah. I kind of figured that out, thanks,’ Peter said, running a hand through his hair. ‘I’ll apologise to her, okay? Back to the meeting.’

‘I vote yes. I, too, dislike slavers,’ Drax said.

‘I’m in,’ said Rocket. ‘We get units, we get Nova Corp to like us even more, it’s a win win.’

‘I am Groot.’

‘He says yes.’

Drax looked to the two newest members of their team. Technically their votes did not matter, since the majority had already approved the mission, but he was certain they would still want to have their say. Kraglin shrugged. ‘I dunno. I ain’t much used to voting. If it’s what the captain wants, we do it,’ he said, nodding to Peter. ‘But I guess it’ll be nice to do something to help people. And I reckon Yondu would approve.’

There was a brief silence, as there often was when someone mentioned Yondu’s name. Drax knew that silence all too well, and did not interrupt.

It was Mantis who spoke instead, ‘Slavers kidnap people, don’t they?’ she asked. ‘And force them to do work. And treat them horribly.’

Drax nodded. ‘That is an accurate summary.’

‘Then I say yes, too.’

‘Great,’ Peter said. ‘That’s a unanimous yes. Rocket, set a course for Knowhere. We should be there tomorrow.’


	2. I Toss And Turn, I Can't Sleep At Night

Peter lay on his bed, staring up at the curving wall above him. He definitely wasn’t hiding from Gamora and the rest of the crew. If he  _was_ hiding, it’d be somewhere less obvious than his own room, wouldn’t it?

He needed to patch things up with Gamora, but he had no idea what to say. He kept running through the conversation in his head, but it always started with _I’m sorry_  and ended with Gamora strangling him, or stabbing him, or - she knew a lot of ways to kill people, ok. It’d have been easier if he was completely in the wrong. Because he still thought he was right, he’d just gone about saying it really, really badly. 

He didn’t think Gamora would be impressed with that distinction.

And besides, if he  _did_ go and talk to her and they sorted things out without anyone getting injured, it would still be the end of their unspoken something. They’d just be friends. If their next conversation was going to put the nail in the coffin of them ever getting together... then he didn’t want to have it, not just yet. 

Peter rolled over and reached for his Zune. The slim music player was a comforting weight in his hand, even after only a month, and he felt a little better even before he put the earphones in. Time to listen to something new, he decided. He’d gone on a music binge, the first few days after everything, and listened to about a hundred songs. He’d decided to save the rest, enjoy them slowly, and today was a day for something new. He put the player on shuffle and lay back as a light piano melody drifted into his ears.

_I’m sailing away, set an open course for the virgin sea_  
_I’ve got to be free, free to face the life that’s ahead of me_

  
He hit the pause button a little harder than intended, because all he could hear was what Ego had said. _My life, my love, my lady is the sea. This is the sea, Peter._ Okay, it was a completely irrational connection - this song didn’t even sound like  _Brandy_ \- but when it talked about the sea it threw him back there for a moment and great, he’d managed to distract himself from his feelings about this mess with Gamora by thinking about Ego instead.

Hanging there, impaled on a strand of blue light, feeling the energy being sucked out of him and seeing thousands and thousands of worlds in his head, people’s lives snuffed out as their bodies were sucked up and turned into more of Ego. And all of it his own fault for going there in the first place. The only reason he’d been conceived, the reason his mother had died, was so that the galaxy could be destroyed, and he hated that. If that was - what had the song said,  _the life that’s ahead of me_ , then he’d rather stay in this room forever.

Which was beginning to sound more and more like a great idea. He lay back down, closed his eyes, and hit a button for the next song.

_You can’t get romantic on a subway line_  
_Conductor don’t like it, says you’re wastin’ your time_  
_But everybody wants some_  
_I want some too_  
_Everybody wants some_  
_Baby, how ‘bout you?_

  
He sat bolt upright, tore out his earphones, and only just restrained himself from throwing the Zune across the room. Seriously? _That_ song,  _now_? Had Yondu somehow programmed it to play only the worst possible music for any given moment? He’d better be careful putting anything on loudspeaker over the next few days, because if he played that song Gamora would assume it was deliberate, and then Peter would be dead. Even if Van Halen was right.

Maybe Gamora just needed to try it. Not that he was going to say that to her face, because again, he liked living. Maybe for some people sex wasn’t something you really wanted until you’d had it a few times? Like spicy food, or those weird sweets they made on Xandar - an acquired taste. _He_ hadn’t really wanted it, his first time. When he’d been getting old enough for his voice to drop and hair to start growing in weird places, the other Ravagers kept asking him what kind of women he liked. And when he’d said he didn’t like any (because he was still a kid, that was  _normal_ ) they’d laughed at him, and Ravagers laughing at you could get kind of dangerous depending on which ones were doing it. But it’d been easy to avoid just by naming the prettiest humanoid women, so it hadn’t really bothered him.

Then some of the Ravagers had decided it was time to take him out with them on shore leave, and he’d known better than to say no, so he’d gone along with it. And hey, everyone’s first time was kind of shitty, right? It had been fine. He’d got off, which was the point. And then everyone had been clapping him on the back, proud of him, and between the praise and the pressure he’d gone back the next time, and the next, until he figured out what he was doing and it started being fun.

He liked sex. He definitely liked sex. But he’d still just picking girls based on what he figured would stop the other Ravagers laughing at him.

He was being ridiculous. He was fine, he was normal - and Ravagers weren’t exactly the most normal people in the galaxy to compare himself to. Peter picked up his Zune again and jammed the earphones in, finding the playlist he’d made of all his favourite songs, just so there’d be no more awkward surprises. He lay back on his bunk and turned the volume up to max, letting the music push everything else right out of his head. He’d done too much thinking for tonight.

*

Gamora liked the way people looked at her now, as they walked through the crowded paths of Knowhere. In the past, when the universe looked at her and saw only a Daughter of Thanos, they looked on her with hatred or fear. Now when people noticed her and her new family, their expressions held admiration, respect - and occasional fear, true, but that was largely from people who had good reason to be afraid.

Their contact’s place of business was in one of the nicer areas of Knowhere. Nice, of course, being a relative term - but it was reasonably clean, reasonably dangerous, and not home to any of the more unpleasant kinds of disreputable business. Their instructions led them to a small yellow door, with a guard who greeted them and ushered them inside.

The room inside was smaller than Gamora would have expected. The knowledge broker, Eori, was sitting at a raised desk in one corner of it, and looked up with a wide smile as they all filed inside. ‘Ah! Welcome, welcome - I am glad you decided to come. Please, sit down. Tachronya, some more chairs for our guests, please.’ 

The guard - presumably Tachronya - started to pull down additional chairs, which were built into the wall so neatly Gamora hadn’t noticed them. Most of the chairs were the standard height suited to herself and most of the rest of the team, but it didn’t escape her notice that there was a raised one with small steps built in for Rocket, and even a very tiny one for Groot, which was set on the corner of Eori’s desk (and which Groot looked adorable sitting in).

‘My apologies,’ Eori said, once they were all settled. ‘I wasn’t expecting all of you to come.’ There was a slight pause after their words, as though expecting someone to offer a reason why all seven of them had decided to come together. The answer, Gamora was uncomfortably aware, was the conflict between her and Peter. Which he had still not apologised for. He hadn’t even spoken to her - although the way he acted whenever they were near each other suggested he was at least feeling guilty. And he could go on feeling guilty until he acknowledged his wrongdoing and apologised.

Anyway, they would both normally have gone to this kind of meeting, and had therefore needed some of the others to come along to act as a buffer. Which had ended up being  _all_ of the others, once it had reached the point where it would have been awkward to leave one or two people behind.

‘We were all interested in your proposition,’ Gamora said, as the silence dragged on a moment too long. ‘We’d like to hear more.’

‘Of course,’ Eori said, nodding as they activated a panel on the desk. A hologram of a young purple-skinned woman with orange hair appeared; Groot stared at it in fascination. ‘It’s a straightforward job - go to Doratin, collect the information, deliver part of it to Nova Corps and part to myself. This is Anikellis, the woman you’ll be meeting with. I’ve already spoken to her and she can meet you in three days time, in the bar where she works - will you be able to make that rendezvous? It should be no difficulty to reschedule.’

Gamora glanced to Rocket, who knew navigation and the capabilities of the  _Milano_ better than anyone, even Peter. ‘Doratin? Yeah, that’s three jumps and a bit of flying away, we’ll make that easy peasy.’

‘Excellent. The time and coordinates of the meeting-place are in here,’ Eori said, pushing a small datachip across the desk. Groot immediately picked it up and turned it over in his hands, drawing a small smile from the knowledge broker. ‘What else do you wish to know?’

‘I’ve got a question,’ asked Peter. ‘Who is this Anikellis and how’s she got hold of this information?’

‘I don’t know her personally, but a close friend of mine cares about her a great deal,’ Eori said. ‘She was captured by the slavers as a child and kept to work for them, until she eventually escaped. I don’t know the details of that, and I haven’t asked - information may be my business, but some things are personal. Anyway. She had plenty of information on them already, and used what she knew of how they worked to gather more, hoping she could use it to stop them someday. She ended up working for my friend in a bar on Doratin, who then contacted me for assistance. Anikellis was understandably too nervous to deal with a stranger directly, but the Guardians of the Galaxy are a different matter. It’s easier to trust heroes.’

They would have to be careful which of them went to speak with her, Gamora thought. A young, nervous woman who’d been trafficked into slavery... well, Drax and Rocket in particular should be kept away from her. It was something Mantis might be good at, in future, when she was a little more used to being social - but not for now.

‘That’s all very touching and all,’ Rocket said, ‘but something I want to know. Why’d you want us to give the info to the Nova Corps? You know they’d pay you for stuff like that, pretty well too.’

‘Rocket, we’re not charging Nova Corps for information on slave traders,’ Gamora said.

‘I wasn’t saying we should... although maybe we should, it’s more units in our pockets and those people are still gonna get helped - okay, okay. But I want to know why. Most traders in Knowhere don’t do stuff out of the goodness of their hearts.’

‘It’s a fair question,’ Eori said. ‘The simple answer is that I have personal reasons to dislike slavers.’ They tilted their head, dark skin inching out from under their collar, and Gamora could see a mark on their neck in pale ink. Eori tucked it away after a few moments of silence, fingers fussing at their collar. ‘Besides, it’s unnecessary. Anikellis’s information implicates a number of other businesses and will have repercussions for the local and galactic economy once the ring is closed down. That information is valuable enough to compensate yourselves and allow me some profit. Besides, even if I were thinking only pragmatically - I’m likely to have other jobs in future that may benefit from hiring you. Your good opinion is worth more than I’d make demanding money from Nova Corps.’

The reasoning was sound enough, and the job seemed good. And Gamora found herself quite hoping they got more jobs like this in future. It might not pay wonderfully, but... well, she’d meant what she’d said to Nebula. About the children across the galaxy in terrible situations, about wanting to stop them ending up like she and Nebula had. Or like Rocket, being experimented on, or like Drax losing his family, or... well, none of them had a carefree past.

If being known as the Guardians as the Galaxy meant being offered more jobs like this, she would be pleased.

No one had any further questions. Peter took the datachip from Groot and with a few further pleasantries, they were done, and the guard ushered them back out into the dim light of Knowhere.

‘We’ve got loads of time,’ Rocket said. ‘I’m going to find some things for the ship. Coming, Groot?’

‘I am Groot!’

‘We should enjoy a meal together,’ Drax suggested, then glanced quickly between herself and Peter. ‘Except that you are not yet friends again. We could seat you at different ends of the table?’

Or Peter could apologise. Gamora looked at him, waiting, but he just glanced at the floor, not meeting either her eyes or Drax’s.

‘I’m going to show Mantis around,’ Gamora said, the first escape that came to mind - and at least it made Mantis light up in excitement. ‘We’ll meet you back at the ship.’

‘Gamora...’ Peter began.

‘You can apologise to me any time you like,’ Gamora said, and headed away from the team, Mantis right behind her.

*

The next day was one month since Yondu died.

Kraglin spent most of the day in his cramped room near the engines, remembering things and then trying not to remember, which didn’t work so good. Then when it got towards evening, ship-time, Peter knocked on his door - looking like hell, of course - and said him and Rocket were drinking in the kitchen and did he want to come and join them.

Well. Yondu would probably come back and haunt him if he ever refused a chance to drink in his memory. Besides, if Kragiln had anything to drink in his room he’d probably have been a way ahead of them already.

So the three of them sat on the floor and drank. Peter put his Zune on in the background, playing the kind of cheerful songs with a good beat that didn’t hurt to listen to, and brought out bottles of something that tasted better than Ravager drinks but still burnt going down. Then Rocket found a deck of Atraxian playing cards, and a few rounds of four-hand Dirty Crush gave them something to do that didn’t require talking while they was still sober.

The burn of the alcohol settled in his chest and numbed the world a little bit, till it didn’t hurt to look out the window and see vacuum. Kraglin dealt the next round, getting a sloppy with his shuffling, having to slow down as he dealt out cards - seven for each of them, plus a dummy hand since they didn’t have a fourth person. He nodded at the spare hand as the others picked their cards up off the floor. ‘Reckon that should be Yondu’s hand.’

‘How can it be Yondu’s hand? He’s not here,’ Rocket said, avoiding the word  _dead_. As though he were going to walk back in with his arrow by his side and all the Ravagers that got spaced with him. His hand went automatically to the arrow, which he kept with him all the time even though he still couldn’t fly it proper. Peter’d said Yondu used his heart to fly it, not his head, but that weren’t much help. Kraglin’s heart wasn’t in great shape these days.

‘I meant in spirit, like. Just call it his. He’d like to think we wasn’t forgetting him. Never mind. It’s a stupid idea.’

‘Nah, you’re right, he’d like it,’ Peter said, keeping his eyes on his cards. ‘And it’s his turn to play first.’

A few dozen songs went by on the Zune, and they made their way through the first bottle and most of the second. it was good stuff. Warming. Made it hard to focus on the game, but it didn’t matter.

‘He’s cheating,’ Rocket accused, gesturing towards Yondu’s hand, alcohol spilling out of the shot glass he was holding. ‘He’s cheating somehow. From the afterlife. I’m gonna lose to a dead guy, it’s embarrassing.’

‘He did used to cheat,’ Kraglin agreed solemnly, leaning carefully against a nice solid table leg. ‘All the time. Was damn good at it too.’ He raised his glass. ‘Here’s to Yondu cheating.’

Peter and Rocket raised their glasses and drank too. Then Rocket put his cards down - face up - and got to his feet, wobbling so much Peter had to reach out and grab his arm. ‘I’m fine, I ain’t drunk.’ he said, pushing Peter away and wobbling even more. For some reason it was the funniest thing Kraglin had seen in ages, and he giggled to himself. Luckily Rocket didn’t take it the wrong way. Little guy was awful easy to upset. ‘I wanna do a toast,’ Rocket said, raising his glass. ‘I didn’t know him as well as either of you two. Hell, I hardly knew him at all. But he understood. Things.’ He paused for a moment, blinking, and added, ‘And I’m trying not to steal any more batteries.’ He drank, and Peter and Kraglin drank too.

They were going to be miserable tomorrow, but that beat being miserable tonight, and the job wasn’t till evening anyway.

Rocket sat - although it was more of a fall - and Peter got to his feet a little more gracefully. He stared at the glass for a moment, like it was going to start making the speech for him, while in the background someone sang about building a city on something. ‘Aw hell, I said it all at the funeral,’ Peter said at last. ‘Still stands.’ They all drank, and Peter sat down.

The two of them were looking at Kraglin now. ‘I ain’t much good at speeches,’ he said, but they were both still looking at him, so he sighed and pulled himself to his feet with the help of the table. Felt like he was a long way up.

He frowned down at his glass and tried to figure out what to say. ‘I wish he weren’t dead,’ he began, because that was the most true thing he could think of. ‘I miss him. And I miss my friends. I wish they weren’t dead neither. And I’m sorry for what I said. I got a mutiny started, if I hadn’t said that maybe they’d all still be alive...’ He swallowed, blinking hard because the world went blurry. Hell, he wasn’t supposed to cry. Yondu would slap him upside the head for getting soppy over him.

Peter tugged on his leg, and Kraglin went with it, sitting down so hard his drink sloshed over the side of his glass. Felt like his head right now, sloshing over. ‘Hey, s’okay,’ Peter said, arm settling over Kraglin’s shoulders. ‘Don’t blame yourself. Yondu wouldn’t want you to.’

Kraglin swallowed down another sob and nodded, though he couldn’t keep his eyes clear of tears. ‘Man, this just got depressing,’ Rocket said. ‘Quit moping and have another drink.’ Kraglin nodded, sniffing and wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, Couldn’t go getting soft. ‘Hey, look’ Rocket said, and Kraglin blinked down to see he’d moved closer, not touching but close enough that he could. ‘That Taserface asshole would’ve started a mutiny whatever you said, okay? It didn’t have nothing to do with what you said, he just used it as an excuse to start talking junk. All you’d have done if you’d kept quiet is got yourself thrown out the airlock with the rest of the guys who were halfway decent people. Would’ve been a waste. So quit crying,’

‘Sorry,’ Kraglin said, pushing away from Peter and leaning against the table again. Thing was, Rocket’s words did make him feel better. He was kind of like Yondu in that way - captain had been right when he’d said they was alike. ‘Let’s keep playing.’

‘Yeah,’ Rocket said. ‘I’ve got to get beaten by a dead man. Who’s cheating.’

They  played a few hands in near silence, except for Peter’s music. The thing was beginning to loop; it’d run out of cheerful songs. He remembered Yondu finding it in a market, haggling over the price, grinning as he carried it away. He’d been put out at the time, thinking Peter got presents that none of the rest of them got. Now he knew he’d had no right to be upset about that. Peter’d been Yondu’s kid in all but blood, even if the crew hadn’t seen it - even if the two of them hadn’t realised it till it was almost too late. Of course Yondu treated him different. 

Besides, Yondu used to let Kraglin and some of the other Ravagers - the ones he most trusted, the ones who’d gone out that airlock - listen to it from time to time. Most of them had got to enjoy Peter’s music, and it had a ton of new songs. Leaning against the table, trying to focus on the game, thinking about Yondu, one of them was coming back to him, murmuring through his memory.

‘Hey, Peter. Gimme Zune a moment. Want to put a song on.’

Peter handed the player over, and Kraglin scanned through the tracks, trying to remember how it’d gone so he could find the title. What were the words again? ‘What song?’

‘I’ll know it when I see it. Listened to this thing a few times before everything happened. Reminds me of you and Yondu.’

Peter frowned. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t-’

Before he could finish, Kraglin found the song he was looking for and hit play. The tune he remembered started to play through the kitchen’s speakers.

_Carry on my wayward son_  
_There’ll be peace when you are done_  
_Lay your weary head to rest_  
_Don’t you cry no more_

Peter froze, staring down at the surface of his glass. None of them said anything, just listening to the song. Kraglin closed his eyes for a moment, and consequently it was halfway through before he looked at Peter again and realised he was crying, tears rolling down his cheeks and dripping off his chin.

Aww, hell. ‘Don’t do that, it’s just a song - here, I’ll turn it off,’ Kraglin said, but Peter shook his head. 

‘Let it play.’

He looked at Rocket, who didn’t look like he had any idea what to do either. ‘Great, you two turned this into a real miseryfest,’ he complained, though he didn’t look annoyed. Just looked lost. Like he wanted to reach out and help but didn’t know how. ‘Pull yourself together, Quill.’

Thing was. Kraglin wasn’t with the Ravagers any more. He’d known that, of course - he could hardly have missed it, wandering the ship, everything he knew gone and surrounded by people who were near strangers, except for Peter. Following the Guardians around, not really one of them, not really fitting. But that also meant there were no people like Taserface around to come and kick the crap out of you for being weak. And it meant Peter could cry at songs as much as he damn well wanted to. And the two of them - well, they might not have any idea how to make it better, but they both wanted to. That had to count for something.

He shuffled closer to Peter and put a hand on his shoulder, like Peter had done to him, before. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘We miss him too. You ain’t alone.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Songs used in this chapter include _Come Sail Away_ by Styx, _Everybody Wants Some_ by Van Halen, and _Carry On my Wayward Son_ by Kansas.


	3. Above the Noise and Confusion

Gamora sat cross-legged on her bed, her favourite weapons laid out on the sheets beside her cleaning and maintenance kit. It was unlikely she would need them that evening; it was supposed to be a simple job. Meet their contact, collect the information, be on their way. But preparing her weapons was a habit, and it helped her to focus on the task ahead. Besides, with the Guardians, it was better to be prepared for anything.

Just as she picked up her favourite knife, there was a knock at the door. Too high up for Rocket or Groot, too loud for Mantis, too quiet for Drax, and unlikely to be Kraglin, which left - ‘Gamora?’ came Peter’s voice, a little hesitant. ‘Can we talk?’

For a moment, she considered refusing, but dismissed the idea as petty. She wanted an apology, and from his tone he might have come to offer one. And if he wasn’t here to apologise, she would remind him why she was upset. And why it was a bad idea to be the one upsetting her.

‘Come in.’

The door opened. Peter stayed in the doorway, though with how small their personal rooms were, that was more due to a lack of space for him to get inside. He looked terrible, his skin paler than normal and his eyes screwed up a little at the corners. Given what day it was yesterday and how much alcohol they’d consumed last night, he was probably hungover. She couldn’t help but feel concerned for him, and not just for the hangover itself. Losing Yondu had been hard on him.

But she wasn’t going to soften before he’d apologised, so she waited, expression neutral, for him to speak

‘Um. So. I wanted to apologise for being a dipshit,’ he began.

She still wasn’t quite sure what an ass hat was, although since he was using it as an insult, it probably described him quite well. ‘Go on, then,’ she said. She wasn’t letting him off with one vague sentence.

‘Okay. Well. I’m sorry for everything I said the other day when you told me about you not wanting sex. And not looking at people in that way. And yeah, all of that. I said some really stupid things and I didn’t mean them.’

‘It sounded like you meant them at the time.’

Peter winced. ‘Yeah, well... okay, I guess I did mean them at the time? But I was being a douchebag and I’d like to take them back.’ He sighed, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck, not quite able to meet her eyes. ‘I was just... surprised. And I said stuff without thinking. Just because being like...’ he waved a hand vaguely in her direction, seemed to realised he couldn’t end that sentence well, and tried again, ‘Just because not feeling like that wasn’t a thing we had on Earth or with the Ravagers doesn’t mean it’s not totally normal for people like you and Drax and Rocket, and I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions that there was anything wrong with you.’

One part of that apology surprised her. ‘Rocket?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, I talked to him about it and apparently he’s not into anyone either. Not even species that look like raccoons. Maybe you guys could start a club. I mean that in a nice way, not a mean way or anything... So, um, is there anything else I need to say sorry for? Because I can grovel some more if you want. Just ask.’

She supposed he’d said enough to be forgiven. ‘I accept your apology.’

Peter smiled, although it didn’t seem quite as full as his usual smiles. ‘Great! So, does that mean we’re... friends?’

There was a little hesitation on that word, and she thought she knew where it came from. Friendship wasn’t quite what either of them wanted. But she simply couldn’t see anything else ever working between them. She would enjoy what they were able to have. 

‘I’m still your friend even when I’m mad at you,’ she told him instead, and his smile was a little more genuine this time. Even if he still appeared to be in pain. ‘Go ask Drax to make you his hangover cure,’ she told him, turning back to her knives.

Peter made a face. ‘Drax’s hangover cure tastes like a skunk’s ass.’

‘Perhaps, but it works. We’ll be arriving at our rendezvous in a few hours and you’ll need to be at your best.’

‘Do I have to?’

‘Yes, Peter.’

‘Fine,’ he said, screwing his face up. He turned to leave, but hesitated, and turned back to look at her. ‘Thanks, Gamora. I really hate fighting with you. And not just because I’m afraid you’ll gut me in my sleep.’

‘I wouldn’t gut you in your sleep. I’d want you to be awake so you knew exactly what you’d done to deserve it,’ she said, but she couldn’t help smiling. ‘Now go. Drax. Hangover cure.’

‘On my way.’

*

Mantis had been in a few bars since she had left Ego’s planet, but being around so many different people of so many different species was still exciting and strange. It was very loud, with all the music and people talking, but she liked it. And she liked this bar better than the other ones she’d been to. It was much brighter, with different coloured lights set in the ceiling so the room kept slowly changing colours - and in the middle of the room was a zero-G dance floor, with dozens of people floating above it, twisting about to the music. They looked silly, but also like they were having a lot of fun.

She thought she might like to try it, but for now they had a mission to complete. Gamora was sitting at a table near the dance floor, waiting for their contact. Kraglin, Rocket and Groot were at another table keeping an eye out for trouble, and Mantis was with Peter, doing the same. Drax was wandering around the room; she wasn’t sure exactly where he was. Getting the information was very important, but much less fun than the people were having on the dancefloor.

‘Can I try your drink?’ she asked Peter. She hadn’t known what to have, so Gamora had suggested something called a mocktail that looked like a sunrise and tasted like happiness. Peter’s drink was not quite as colourful, but if her drink tasted that nice, she was curious what his might be like.

‘Sure,’ he said, pushing it over. She put the straw in her mouth and took a sip - and screwed her face up and stuck out her tongue, as though that could get the taste out of her mouth faster.

‘That is horrible!’

Peter laughed, pushing her own drink towards her. ‘Drink some of that, get the taste out of your mouth.’ She did, and the lovely sweet sunny taste did help to cover it up.

‘They put something terrible in your drink! You should tell them. Maybe one of their ingredients has gone bad and they don’t know?’

‘No, no, it’s supposed to taste like that.’ She looked at him incredulously. ‘That’s just how alcohol tastes. It’s fine once you’re used to it. I forgot you wouldn’t be.’

‘Why would anyone want to drink that?’

‘Well, for most species it changes how you feel,’ he explained. ‘Fewer inhibitions, makes it easier to have a good time. Or forget the bad times.’

That was all? She gave his glass a disdainful look. ‘I can do that!’ she pointed out. ‘And you won’t have to drink icky things. Would you like me to-’’ she asked, reaching out to take his hand.

‘No! No, thanks. Besides, we’re on a job, I’m not trying to get drunk right now. Or any time for at least a week,’ he said, making a face and rubbing the back of his head. And then he took  _another_ sip of the horrible drink.

Mantis opened her mouth to ask why he was drinking something so disgusting if he didn’t even want it to change how he felt, and wouldn’t he rather have a nice sunrise-coloured drink like hers, when they were interrupted.

A tall, slim man with pale horns curling around his head sat down next to her with a wide smile. ‘Hey, Antennae. This loser boring you?’

She opened her mouth to explain that Peter was very confusing but not boring at all, but the man’s eyes slipped past her and widened, and she followed his glance. Peter had pulled one of his blasters out and was spinning it casually around his finger. ‘Go bother someone else,’ he said.

The man with the horns scowled. ‘Fine, prick, no need to get possessive,’ he said, and left.

Mantis looked back at Peter, confused. ‘Why did you do that?’ she asked, as Peter put his blaster away. ‘Was he one of the slavers? Are we going to have to fight them?’

‘What? No, I don’t think so. He was hitting on you,’ he explained. ‘You know, flirting? Trying to get you to have sex with him?’

‘Oh,’ Mantis said, frowning after the man, who was already talking to another woman. ‘Why?’

‘Because you’re pretty - never mind what Drax says.’

‘Okay,’ she said, and took another sip of her drink. It was a good thing Peter had told him to go away, then. She didn’t think she wanted to do that - and definitely not with someone she had only just met in a bar! She looked back at Peter, wanting to ask him more about alcohol - but he looked like he had forgotten Mantis was there, staring at where Gamora was sitting and drumming his fingers on the table.

‘Something is bothering you?’ she asked.

‘What? No, no I’m fine.’ He was not fine. She glanced at his hand, wondering if he would notice if she touched him long enough to read his emotions. Trying to guess from expressions and body language could be very hard - but before she could do anything, he frowned and leaned back in his chair. ‘So back when we were travelling to Ego’s planet, you said I had... sexual and romantic feelings for Gamora, right?’

She nodded, and since his cheeks had gone a little red, she added, ‘I am sorry for embarrassing you then. I am still learning social interaction.’

‘It’s okay. You’re getting a lot better,’ he said, and she smiled at the praise. ‘But how much do you know about... those kinds of feelings?’

She considered his question. ‘I do not know very much?’ she said. ‘Until you came to Ego’s world, I did not know any emotions other than his own. And sometimes his children, but they were young.’ And mostly all she’d felt from them was fear. She knew a lot about fear. She liked the Guardians’ emotions better, when they allowed her to share them - even the bad ones.

Peter’s face screwed up. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, shrugging and taking another sip of his disgusting drink. Mantis glanced at his hand, wondering if she could get away with reading him. He said it didn’t matter, but he didn’t look like he meant it, and she wasn’t sure.

‘What did you want to know?’

‘Nothing. it’s just...’ He looked towards Gamora again. 

‘Is it because of what Gamora said to you when you had a fight? About not wanting sex or thinking people were attractive?’

Peter frowned, looking back at her. ‘How do you know about that?’

‘Gamora told me you had a fight. Then Drax told me why.’ Peter shot a glare at Drax across the bar, even though Drax was much too far away to notice. ‘If you want to know how Gamora feels, I couldn’t tell you. She does not like me to touch her.’

‘It wasn’t that,’ Peter said, shaking his head. ‘I guess I just wanted to know how... people feel. About that stuff. In general.’

Mantis frowned. ‘Don’t you know about that? Drax said you have sex with many many women and are a master of pelvic sorcery.’

Peter put a hand over his face. ‘Did Drax tell you anything else?’

‘Many things? We talk often. He has taught me where to find things in the kitchen, and how to clean the dishes, and yesterday he showed me how to change the bulb in Groot’s sunlamp! Is there something wrong with that?’

‘No, that’s all fine.’ Peter took a much larger drink. Mantis watched his face very closely to see if it screwed up in disgust, but he didn’t seem to mind the taste. Perhaps his tastebuds worked differently to hers? They were different species. That might explain it.

Mantis waited to see if he was going to say anything else, but he didn’t. ‘I would like to help you, if I can,’ she said, trying to think of a way. She looked out across the bar, and a thought struck her. ‘There are lots of people here who want sex, aren’t there? Like that man you terrified.’

‘Yeah, it’s one of the reasons people come to bars.’

‘Well - I could go and touch some of them and find out how they feel so I can come back and help you!’ Peter didn’t look very sure of the idea. ‘It will be easy! Gamora has been teaching me how to be very sneaky and touch people without them realising it, so I can change people’s emotions if I need to.’

‘I guess it could work. Okay. But don’t go too far, we’re still on a mission. And if anyone grabs you or says anything you don’t like you put them straight to sleep, okay?’

Mantis nodded, then slipped away from the table and went to wander around the room. It was nice to be able to do something to help a friend.

*

Peter kept an eye on Mantis as she moved through the room, just in case. She’d been to bars a couple of times since leaving Ego’s planet, but she still had no idea about a lot of things. This place seemed safer than most of the places they’d gone drinking in, but it only took one asshole.

She didn’t seem to have any problems, except for one guy who she quickly sent to sleep. His friends seemed more interested in mocking him for not being able to hold his alcohol, and Mantis slipped away quietly. As she did, Peter also noticed a woman who looked like Eori’s picture of Anikellis sit down at Gamora’s table. And no signs of trouble. Good. Hopefully this trip was going to be a cakewalk as advertised.

Mantis wound her way back after a few minutes. Her antennae were straight up in the air, looking tense; Peter wasn’t quite used to reading the body language from them, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t a happy signal. ‘Everything ok?’ he asked.

Mantis blinked and smiled at him. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It is merely that... there are so many people with so many different feelings. Some feel love, and some want sex, and there are others who are angry or sad or bored or happy... She flexed her hands, as if trying to shake something off her fingers, and then took a sip of her drink.

‘So?’ Peter prompted. ‘How did they feel about love and sex and things? It’s the same as how I feel for Gamora, right?’ It was kind of awkward to be asking about it, but it was easier asking mantis than anyone else. She didn’t know this was the kind of thing you were supposed to be embarrassed to talk about, same as she hadn’t known not to blurt out how he felt about Gamora in the first place. He’d have to swear her to secrecy afterwards, because he didn’t want any of the others to find out about this. Rocket would laugh. Drax would probably misunderstand something and ask awkward questions. Gamora might actually kill him if she was still upset over what he’d said. Kraglin would probably laugh at him as well; the Ravagers were pretty big on hooking up.

Mantis frowned and shook her head. ‘No. You feel love,’ she said, with a little hopeless-romantic smile. ‘Most of them did not feel it.’

‘Yeah, but the ones who did feel love. The romantic, sexual kind. And even just the sex bit. Same as me, right?’

‘I... do not think so?’ she said, and Peter’s heart went cold.

‘What do you mean? You said I felt that way for Gamora, back on Ego’s ship, I’ve got to be the same as everyone else.’

‘I thought that was what you did feel, back then. I do not think I really understand love, and sex - I did not know you could have love without sex until just recently. It’s all very complicated,’ she said, frowning at the rest of the room. ‘But there were feelings I felt from them that I have not felt from you.’

‘What  _kinds_ of feelings?’

Mantis but her lip. ‘A... feeling? Emotions are very hard to explain,’ she said, antennae drooping for a moment before she brightened. ‘I could show you!’

He held out a hand wordlessly; anything to get an answer, at this point. It was probably nothing, but he had to know. She put her hand over his and her antennae glowed, and Peter felt...

It was a pull, a need. Like he’d been turned into metal and some of the people in this bar were magnets. It was... When he’d been a kid, less than a year off Earth, Yondu had pulled a heist on a museum and left Peter in the exhibits to cause a distraction. There’d been a room that showed you how different species sensed things, and he’d walked through a display that showed you what the world looked like if you could see in ultraviolet. Everything had looked different, new and weird, a whole different colour laid over the reality he was familiar with. It had been beautiful.

This felt just as new, just as strange, but it was  _terrifying_.

Peter yanked his hand away from Mantis, who looked at him in alarm. ‘You are frightened,’ she said, eyes wide. ‘And... hurting. Did I show you something wrong?’

She hadn’t. He was the one that was wrong. Because if that was how everyone in this bar felt like that, if that was normal... then he wasn’t. And every word he’d said to Gamora echoed in his ears: what was wrong with him?

When the glass windows on one side of the bar shattered to the sound of gunfire and screaming, he was actually kind of relieved.

He pulled out his blasters, taking in the scene. He was guessing the bunch of a-holes in black storming the building were part of the slaver ring - but before he could say anything, a gold-tinged forcefield shimmered into existence around the perimeter. Shit. That did not look good.

‘Rocket?’

‘Looks like they’ve flipped the security shield to trap people inside ‘stead of keeping the bad guys out - I’m on it.’ He glanced over to see Rocket balanced on Drax’s shoulder, then using it as a springboard to race across people’s heads. Which left him and the other Guardians needing to protect their contact, protect everyone else in this bar, and kill a bunch of slavers.

‘Peter,’ came Gamora’s voice over the comms, ‘Anikellis says there’s a basement under the bar. No way out through the forcefield but safer than being in here.’ 

‘Great. Drax, Kraglin, Mantis - get people out of the way. Gamora - do what you do best.’

‘I can fight,’ Mantis began, looking nervous, but he cut her off.

‘Need you getting people to safety. Use your powers, keep them calm. Got it?’ he said, and she nodded, then turned to run into the crowd. Drax, with his booming voice, was already directing people towards the basement. Fortunately the slavers didn’t seem interested in turning this into a bloodbath - they were only here for one person. And the Guardians, presumably.

The background music abruptly cut out, and an unmistakable song started to play in its place.

  
_Sometimes I feel I’ve got to_  
_run away, I’ve got to_  
_get away, From the pain you drive_  
_into the heart of me._

‘Rocket, stop wasting time!’

‘Took half a second, quit whining. Thought you liked working to tunes?’

Peter rolled his eyes and headed out. The room was clearing faster than he’d thought possible; there was already a large empty space in the middle of it, around the dance floor. Enough that he figured he could lay down some suppressive fire, push the slavers back. One of them went down, and their attention turned to him; he ducked behind the wall of a booth just as Gamora pushed her way out of the crowd, sword in hand.

Half a second later, as he glanced out from under cover, he swore; the first of the slavers had reached the dance floor and was launching himself into the air. Height advantage - and, once they got high enough, no way for Peter to take cover from them. Gamora was already running after them, leaping into the air from the opposite side of the dancefloor, pulling into a tight spin to make herself less of a target before pulling out at just the right moment to decapitate the nearest slaver. The blood spurted through the air, breaking off into shuddering globules that shimmered in the colour-changing lights, arcing upwards until it hit the safe-drop zones at the edge of the the dancefloor and drifted to the floor. The corpse kept spinning slowly, scattering blood in every direction.

‘Someone’s going to have a hell of a time clearing that up.’ Peter said, running towards the dancefloor, firing at slavers as he went.

‘I didn’t know you cared about killing people neatly,’ Gamora said, taking out another one with a stab through the chest, putting her boot on the body and pulling her sword out in a move that pushed her at her next target. ‘Considering the state you left the dining table in yesterday.’

Peter jumped into the air, dodged a shot, and fired two blasts that took out another slaver. The shots pushed him backwards but he adjusted quickly, firing at the floor to push himself upwards. ‘That was mostly Drax.’

‘It was not,’ Drax remarked over the comms.

Peter rose through a cloud of glistening blood droplets, making a face as they spattered against him, and shot an easy target who was spinning awkwardly in place. It was quickly becoming clear the slavers had made a mistake jumping onto the dancefloor. They didn’t seem used to zero-g, acting surprised when their shots pushed them backwards and flailing around trying to right themselves. It made them easy targets, and he and Gamora picked them off one by one before the others had even finished evacuating the room.

Which left Peter floating slowly in the direction of the padded ceiling. Before he could fire his blasters to push himself back towards the ground, Gamora caught his hand. She was splattered with blood too, but she smiled at him - for only the second time since their fight - and they settled into a slow, gentle orbit, tumbling gently so floor became ceiling and back again, his music still playing in the background.

_To make things right you need someone to hold you tight_  
_And you’ll think love is to pray but I’m sorry I don’t pray that way_

It should have been a nice moment, despite the blood and the floating corpses. But now the fight was over Peter’s mind was drifting back to what Mantis had showed him. The world shifted, dizzy and disoriented and wrong.

He let go of Gamora’s hand. ‘Last one down to the floor cleans the hair-traps in the bathroom,’ he said, and pushed himself away with a shot of his blasters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is _Tainted Love_ by Soft Cell. Thanks for reading!


	4. Time I Had Some Time Alone

The rest of their journey was very calm, much to Drax’s dissatisfaction. He had not had a chance to take on the slavers in glorious battle, since Peter had sent him to guide idiots too weak to defend themselves. Peter hadn’t seemed to understand why Drax was displeased, but had promised that the next time they had an enemy to fight, he would make sure that Drax had the opportunity to engage in battle.

They took the girl Anikellis with them to Xandar, as her home was clearly not safe, but unfortunately the slavers didn’t follow them. Nova Corps were predictably grateful for the information and promised to help the slave girl settle in on Xandar. They left and returned to Knowhere - a similarly uneventful trip. By the time they landed, Drax was grateful to return to the small information broker’s office simply to have a task and leave the ship behind.

Drax, Gamora and Rocket went to make the exchange - since it was a simple swap of information for credits, it was not necessary for all of them to go, and they chose names at random rather than argue over who went. Eori was once again waiting for them, and smiled as the guard showed them all in. ‘I’m glad you came,’ they added, addressing the remark to Gamora, before shaking their head. ‘Business first. You have the information?’

Odd. Drax glanced at Gamora, who was frowning slightly, but neither of them said anything.

Rocket held up a datachip. ‘It’s all on here,’ he said, setting it flat on the desk. ‘Information on all the companies doing dirty deals with the slave traders and how badly they’re gonna go down after Nova Corps get hold of them. Should make you a fair chunk of units.’

Eori took the datachip and inserted it into a slot on the desk, scanning through files on a small screen inlaid into the surface. ‘Oh, yes, as expected. Delightful. I shall contact my buyers immediately.’

‘And our share of the credits?’ asked Gamora - likely choosing to ask politely before Rocket could say anything more insulting.

‘Of course.’ Eori reached into a drawer and pulled out a stack of credits - then reached back into the drawer and withdrew a second datachip, and laid it very deliberately on top of the money. ‘I’m not in the habit of giving away information,’ they said, looking directly at Gamora. ‘Bad for business, you understand. But then you weren’t required by the terms of our agreement to transport Anikellis to a place of safety -and I would like for us to work together in future. So consider this a downpayment of sorts on future goodwill.’

Curious. Gamora reached for the datachip and picked it up. ‘What kind of information?’ she asked.

‘Something I received from one of my contacts late yesterday, regarding someone I believe is of importance to you. Nebula - another daughter of Thanos alongside yourself, is she not?’

‘Ex-daughter,’ Gamora corrected. Her eyes were wide, shoulders tense. Drax did not need Mantis’s powers to know what she was feeling in that moment. ‘And she is my sister. What has happened?’

Eori nodded. ‘My informant tells me she has been taken prisoner.’

‘By who?’

‘A group of Zinnarians. My informant didn’t speculate as to why, but I would imagine it is related to her attack on their capital city, when she was still working for Thanos.’

Gamora closed her eyes and nodded. ‘I remember her being sent on that mission,’ she said. ‘She was... still quite young. We both were.’

‘Everything I know is on the datachip,’ Eori said. ‘Locations, people, capabilities.’

There was a moment of silence. Gamora swallowed, and Drax glanced away, to give her privacy. He remembered very well the feeling of learning your loved ones were in danger. Rocket, however, had no such respect. ‘So I guess you’re gonna drag us halfway across the galaxy to rescue your psychopath sister?’ he asked, rolling his eyes.

‘You don’t have to come,’ Gamora snapped, getting to her feet. ‘But I am going. Thank you for the information, Eori.' She turned to leave; Drax caught hold of her wrist to prevent her.

‘We are all going,’ Drax told her. ‘We are family. We would be gravely dishonoured if we did not fight with you in your personal battles, as you would fight for us.’ He gave Rocket a threatening glare, not wanting him to refuse, or insult Gamora’s cause further. Drax knew that Rocket did care for Gamora, and that he wished to help her. But Rocket’s speech was much like the metaphors the others used; it meant something other than what was said. His true feelings showed clearly in his actions, only rarely in his words. But Gamora was still not used to having the support of a family, and did not need Rocket’s confusing speech now.

Rocket sighed and nodded. ‘Sure. I ain’t got anything better to do, anyway.’

It seemed to be good enough for Gamora, who took her wrist back from Drax and tapped her comms. ‘We need to meet back at the ship. Now. There’s been a development, we have to leave at once.’

As they hurried back to the Milano, Drax smiled. Of course he would prefer Gamora’s sister not to be in any danger, but since she was, he was looking forward to a chance to help his friend. And if these people could take a daughter of Thanos prisoner, the battle promised to be greatly enjoyable.

*

Kraglin must've waited outside Peter's room for ten, fifteen minutes before he got up the nerve to knock.

He'd nearly talked himself out of it, since right now weren't the best time. They were less than a day from where Gamora's sister was a prisoner, and the ship felt tense, everyone getting ready for a fight. It'd surprised Kraglin how quickly everyone agreed to go, since Nebula wasn't exactly anyone's best friend. Not even Gamora's. But everyone had agreed without even bothering with a vote, and now they were all making ready in their own ways and tiptoeing round Gamora.

Except for Peter, who was hiding in his room instead of acting the leader or helping keep his girl calm. Now the others might not know him well enough yet, but Peter only hid himself away like that if he was really upset about something. Like when he'd been fighting with Gamora. Except that they'd made up now, so he had no reason to be this upset - and then Mantis had mentioned some pretty concerning things, and Kraglin had figured he needed to come and say something. Yondu would want him to, since he couldn't yell at the boy himself any more.

He knocked. There was no answer from the other side of the door, and Kraglin wondered if Peter was asleep. He knocked again, louder. 'Peter?'

'Come in.' He sounded pretty irritated. Kraglin slid the door open and stepped inside.

Since it was his ship and he was the Captain, Peter had a slightly larger room than the rest of them, but it were still only large enough for a bed and a couple of chests jammed against the walls, and a little bit of open floor. Peter was lounging on the bed, pulling the headphones of his Zune out of his ears. 'Something up?

Kraglin shut the door behind himself, and set down on one of the chests. Now he was actually here, he didn't know where to start. He rubbed his palms along his thighs. 'Why're you moping in here?' he asked.

Peter rolled his eyes. 'I'm not moping.'

'You ain't been out of this room all day, 'cept to eat and take a piss,' Kraglin pointed out. 'Got something to do with Gamora?'

'If I was moping, which I'm  _not_ , it wouldn't be because of Gamora. We're fine.'

'I heard some stories say otherwise.'

Peter frowned a little, glancing over at him. 'What kind of stories?'

'You and her had a fight because she's not interested in people in a sexual way. You two made up, then you were asking Mantis funny questions about what people feel and making people see what all those kind of emotions feel like.'

Peter sat bolt upright, spluttering. 'She told you? I told her to keep that secret!'

Which was suspicious in itself, the secrecy. And the last thing Kraglin wanted to do was be suspicious of Peter, but... well, it all gave him a bad feeling, and he had to make sure. 'She said you’d sworn her to secrecy, but she ain't much good at lying yet. I got some of the details out of her,' he said, folding his arms across his chest. It probably didn't help him look confident or stern. Probably made him look like he felt, just he was trying to keep his beating heart in his chest. 'Why you asking her that kind of thing?'

He'd been hoping there was an obvious answer, hoping Peter would just say it was so he could understand Gamora better or something like that. But Peter just glared at him, kicking his heel against the side of the bed. 'None of your business.'

So it was something he didn't want to admit to. Kraglin's fingernails bit into his palms, hidden by the way his arms were folded. 'You don't have to tell me. Just...' He had to ask. 'Gamora don't feel that way. I just want to know you're not trying to change that somehow.'

Peter looked confused, then wide-eyed. 'What?' he demanded, his voice so shocked that Kraglin immediately felt a little calmer; didn't sound like he'd even thought of it. 'No! That's... that's messed up. Why would you even think I'd do something like that?'

And now he looked hurt. Or the word Kraglin didn't really want to think of, which was: betrayed. 'Just had to ask,' he said.

'Seriously? That's what you think of me? I know I'm an a-hole, but I have limits.'

'I know,' Kraglin said, trying to push down the squirming feeling in his gut. Always saying the wrong thing. it'd got his friends killed, Yondu dead, now Peter was angry at him - no, he told himself, Not the same thing. He tried to meet Peter's eyes, and failed, and spoke most of the rest of it in the direction of the floor. 'I didn't mean it like that. You’re one of the best men I know. Yondu did a damn sight better with you than anyone'd have guessed. It's just... I've known good men, men I trusted, who still went off and did... stuff like that. Wouldn't have felt right with myself if I didn't ask.'

'What kind of stuff?'

At least that explanation seemed to have calmed him down. 'Just stuff. Long time ago.' Peter didn't say anything. 'Sorry. For implying that.'

'It's okay.'

Silence. Kraglin figured he should cut out of the conversation and leave, but something still bothered him. 'What were you asking Mantis about, then?' he asked. The way Peter was trying to hide something there bothered him. He’d known Peter since he was eight. He didn't hide stuff unless it mattered.

Peter shrugged. Now he was the one who couldn't meet Kraglin's eyes. 'Just curious,' he said, twisting his fingers in his sheets. 'Kraglin? Do you think it's normal - how Gamora feels? Or doesn't feel?'

Well. That was a harder question to answer than Peter could have guessed. 'Reckon so,' he said.

Peter nodded. Something about him reminded Kraglin a lot more of the scared kid trying to find his place on a Ravager ship than the grown Guardian of the Galaxy Peter was supposed to be now. 'That’s why I was asking Mantis. About what people actually felt. because I... I think maybe I'm like Gamora. There's things I'm supposed to feel that I just. Don't.'

Kraglin went cold - cold like the black, like the void. And he'd always thought that was a metaphor, but his skin went prickly, every hair standing on end as he realised what Peter was saying, what it meant. His mouth was already formed to say  _no_ , before he realised Peter would take that the wrong way, and swallowed it down. 'But... but you slept with a ton of ladies. Unless you were faking it?' Peter shook his head; Kraglin's brief hope died. 'But... why would you have sex with them if you didn't  want them that way?'

'Man. Now I know how Gamora felt when she told me.'

'Damn. Sorry. I didn't mean -' Kraglin broke off to lean forward and put his face in his hands, taking a deep breath. It didn't do anything to stop his thoughts jumbling over each other fast enough to make him feel sick. 'Just. You got raised by Ravagers, same as me ‘cept I was a bit older to start. They'd have taken you whoring when they reckoned you was old enough, right?'

'Right,' Peter said. Though he didn't need to confirm it; Kraglin remembered. Everyone clapping Peter on the back, taking it as an excuse to get drunk, like they needed one. Kraglin hadn't thought anything of it at the time.

'Did you...' he began, but couldn't frame the question. 'Peter. Did any of them ever make you do anything you didn't want to do?'

He couldn't look at Peter, thinking of the boy he might have failed, so it was a relief when he heard Peter's slightly confused tone. 'No? At least, not like what you're implying. I mean... I didn't really  _want_ to the first time, maybe, but it went fine anyway, and after that it got better. Why?' Kraglin didn't answer, or look up, and after a moment he heard Peter take a sharp breath. 'Wait. Wait, Kraglin, you said... you knew people you trusted who did  _stuff like that_. You don't mean...?'

He didn't specify, but he'd guessed the meat of it. Kraglin curled a little closer into himself, not looking up. 'Yeah,' he said, mouth dry; he swallowed. 'Guess I'm the same as Gamora, kind of. Didn't know there was others like me before, but good to know there are.' He didn't say anything else, and almost jumped when he felt Peter's hand on his shoulder. He glanced up; Peter looked heartbroken. 

'I didn't know,' he said. 

'Not many did,' he said, and suddenly, as if something had dissolved, he found words pouring out of his mouth. 'Kept it hidden. If you flirt with the ladies and take them off in a private room, well, no one knows what goes on in there. And if you pay them a little extra to keep quiet, no one's gonna know. ‘Cept I didn't think to pay extra at first, and I guess one of them tattled on me. Least, some of the others found out I wasn't exactly like a Ravager's supposed to be. Took it into their heads to fix me up. Was more careful after that.'

'Kraglin...' Peter said, voice sounding like it was just about breaking; that was the only warning he got before Peter pulled him into a hug. Kraglin closed his eyes, hugged him back, and took a few moments just to breathe. It'd been a long time ago. Didn't matter any more. Except that talking about it made it hurt, like an old scarred injury.

'Yondu knew, I reckon,' he said. He’d never said anything, but Kraglin was pretty sure that was why certain Ravagers had ended up dead eventually. Not that Yondu had killed them, just kept assigning them to dangerous jobs until their luck ran out. 'Used to cover for me, as much as he could. That's why I got assigned to babysit you so much. Gave me an excuse to stay behind.'

'Good for Yondu,' Peter said.

Which was about all the talking about his feelings Kraglin could take for the day. 'What about you?' he asked, pulling back from the hug. 'You've not been faking it all this time?'

Peter shook his head. 'I didn't even realise I wasn't like everyone else till the other day,' he said. 'Then Mantis showed me how it was supposed to feel and  I guess I realised people weren't exaggerating when they talked about how they felt or how people looked. I mean... sex is fun, for me? Better than taking care of things yourself.' Kraglin couldn't understand how he could like it, but honestly, he was just glad Peter did. Would've made things easier on him. 'And now I keep remembering all these little times when someone said something or did something or I missed something because... I didn't actually feel the same way the rest of them did. You'd better not tell anyone about this, by the way.'

'I reckon maybe you should tell them yourself,' Kraglin said, smiling. 'I mean, between you and me and Gamora, there's three of us on board.'

'Actually...' Peter frowned for a moment. 'Pretty much  _everyone_. If you count Groot being literally a plant, and Mantis is still figuring things out but she did say those kinds of feelings were weird to her, so maybe.'

'What, Drax and Rocket too?

Peter nodded. 'Which seems kind of unlikely. I mean, what are the odds of all of us being like this?'

'Pretty low, but still higher than the odd of a bunch of misfits and criminals saving the galaxy twice,' Kraglin said, and Peter laughed. It was true, though. And for the first time since he'd lost everyone, since he'd wound up stranded with the load of them because they were only people he had left, Kraglin felt like maybe he could belong here.

*

A short flight, a couple of jumps, and then they hung in the void above Zinnari, and it was time for Peter to call everyone together to hash out their plan. They all turned up a lot quicker than they normally did - but then, they knew what this was for. This was serious; this was personal. They were all very aware of how Gamora sat in the corner, silent in a peculiarly terrifying way. She had a knife in her hand, which she was polishing. She must have sharpened and cleaned and polished every weapon she owned a dozen times by now.

‘We’ve got a map of the facility they’ve got Nebula in,’ he said, without preamble. Best to get straight to it. He hit a button on the console and the map appeared on one of the console screens, a wireframe rendering of a large rectangular building. In the bottom left, underground, was a blinking blue light. ‘This is where Eori’s informant believed she was being kept. Might not be in that exact room, but it’ll be in the general area. Mission’s simple; get in, grab Nebula, and get out.’

‘That is your whole plan?’ Drax asked. ‘A child could have suggested that.’

‘That’s not the whole plan, jackass, I’m just getting started!’ Peter shook his head. ‘As I was saying. The people who have her are angry civilians. They’ve got hired muscle but they’re not professionals and they’re not expecting a rescue. We shouldn’t have too much trouble getting through them. Still, to make it as quick and easy as possible, we’re going in the side entrance, here, and taking this route, it should keep us out of the busier areas. There’s just one complication.’ He nodded to Rocket; this bit was more his area of expertise.

Rocket hit a button on the console, and a large blue sphere appeared on screen, covering most of the area around Nebula. ‘They may be civilians, but they ain’t stupid. There’s a one-way force field set up around Nebula’s cell. It’ll let anything in, but anyone tries to take anything metal _out_ of that area, it won’t let it through. If Nebula tried to walk through it, amount of metal she’s got in her body? It’d tear all her implants out and leave the rest one big pile of mush.’ Gamora closed her eyes briefly and shuddered; Peter watched her until she relaxed again. It was a front, he knew that, but as long as she could maintain it she was doing okay.

‘So we need to turn the forcefield off?’ Mantis asked. ‘I do not think mush would be good...’

‘Exactly. While most of us will head for Nebula, two of us will head for the control room over here. We’ll be able to control all the systems in the place from there, including the forcefield. That means me, cause I’m smartest, and one other person as backup.’ He glanced around the room.

Peter ran through the options. There was no way Gamora was being diverted from her sister, and no way Drax was taking the path with less chance for fighting. Mantis and Groot weren’t strong enough to be sole backup, and Rocket didn’t know Kraglin well enough. ‘I’ll come,’ Peter said.

‘Suppose it could be worse. All the rest of you, watch out for traps. The intel’s not complete, and if they’ve got this forcefield up, could have all kinds of stuff.’

‘Any questions?’ Peter asked. Silence. ‘Right. Get your weapons together; we’re going in. Rocket, take us down.’

Rocket nodded and climbed up into the pilot’s seat. Gamora left immediately, the others taking a little longer to file out. Peter took the opportunity to pull Kraglin aside. He’d been worried that after their talk earlier, Kraglin wouldn’t be in any frame of mind for fighting, but he seemed fine, just as calm and ready as he always had back when Peter was growing up. So all he asked was, ‘How’s the arrow coming along?’

Kraglin frowned. ‘I still ain’t got the hang of it. Not well enough to use in battle. Be as likely to take one of you out as anything.’

Peter nodded. ‘Bring it along anyway. Just in case, even if you don’t use it.’

‘If you say so. But I reckon I’ll be sticking to my blasters.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking a while to update, I had a convention last weekend and everything was wild for a bit! Thanks for reading!


	5. That Ice is Slowly Melting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I have a brief request before we get to the chapter - my amazing friend (and this fic's tireless beta) memorydragon also wrote an amazing asexual-character fic a couple months ago. Over the last few days, she's had a sudden wave of horrible comments and harassment from people opposed to asexuality. So if asexual!Batman getting stranded with Superman on an ice planet (with lots of struggling to survive and hurt/comfort) is something you might be interested in, please hop over to [My Own Desert Places](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11290077) and give it a read and maybe kudos or a comment? Mem is the loveliest person and has worked so hard getting this fic betaed for you all to enjoy, she absolutely does not deserve any of this.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading - on with chapter 5!

They landed a short distance from the facility, in an attempt to keep their arrival unnoticed for as long as possible. It was likely futile, but it had been Gamora’s suggestion, and none of them had wished to argue. They had to walk the rest of the way, but it was not arduous and Drax welcomed the exercise. His friends were quiet, preparing themselves for the battle - that, or not wanting to draw attention.

Drax kept at least one of his knives in his hand at all times, and noticed the others doing the same with their weapons - especially Gamora, whose hand never drifted from the hilt of her sword. Drax understood that. He would feel much the same, if it were someone he cared about taken prisoner in this way.

The facility came into view, and he smiled. Finally.

There were guards on the side door, but they were pitiful; Peter and Rocket took them out easily with their blasters. Rocket pulled the cover off the lock by the side of the door and quickly rewired it; the door slid open. Inside, bland white corridors lead away to left and right. The corridors were wide and the ceilings high, giving plenty of room for manoeuvring. He had fought in worse places.

‘See you on the other side.’ Peter said, clapping a hand to Gamora’s shoulder, as he and Rocket went left, to take down the forcefield. Drax was briefly confused, since their plan was to meet up here, not on the other side of the building, but he shrugged it off; another incomprehensible metaphor, no doubt.

He followed Gamora down the corridor to the right, Mantis behind him with Groot on her shoulder, Kraglin at the back. That kept the two weakest people in the middle, where they could be protected. They came across another pair of guards at the next intersection; Gamora took one out, and Drax the other.  It was quick, and almost disappointingly easy. He hoped there were more competent guards as they came closer to where Nebula was held prisoner.

And he got exactly what he wished for; another pair of guards around the next corner, only this time one of them set off some kind of warning before he perished. A loud alarm began to wail irritatingly through the corridors, and Drax smiled. This might prove more of a challenge.

‘Peter?’ Gamora said, into her comms.

‘I hear it. We haven’t run into anyone yet. We’ll be on guard.’ 

Running footsteps, and a whole platoon of soldiers appeared from around the corner. Drax fell into a ready stance. Now this looked like a worthy challenge.

*

Why did people build all these places the same? Rocket hated buildings like this. Plain corridors, floors stinking of cleaning fluid to hide the smells of whatever they were doing - even the alarm made the same kind of blaring noise, stabbing into his ears. Sooner they were out of here, the better.

They saw a few guards, but no one else. Rocket reckoned the people who were actually doing stuff to Nebula would be down on the lowest floor near her, and they could stay right there till they got mowed down by a pissed-off Gamora. He had ideas of the kind of things they’d be doing. Torture, not experiments, but as far as he was concerned, same thing with different justifications. Rocket wouldn’t admit it, but people like that gave him the creeps. Part of him wanted to hunt them down and kill them until they were very, very dead, but the other part was kind of relieved to be up here dealing with the guards, who were just in it for the money like normal people.

He heard the thunder of running feet, and froze, looking round for an escape. Not that he couldn’t take those guys, but he and Peter were doing the boring thing and trying not to be spotted. Better if these goons didn’t know there were more people in the building, gave them an element of surprise. 

There was a single door to one side of the hallway. Peter was already trying the handle. ‘In here,’ he said as it opened, and they ducked inside.

It was mostly empty. A few storage boxes here and there were filled with what smelled like dry food. Made sense - this facility hadn’t been built for Nebula; it was something else first and these guys had just taken it over. Didn’t need all the space, so plenty of it would be unused.

‘Hey, look at this,’ Peter said. Rocket turned to see him tapping away on a little console screen near the door, up near his eye level. ‘Might have some intel here. Better maps, for one...’

‘Let me see,’ Rocket said, and for lack of any better way up to the console, climbed up Peter’s coat onto his shoulder.

‘If you stab holes in my coat again-’

Rocket jabbed one claw near Peter’s neck, just because he could, and reached for the screen. Finding an exact location for Nebula would be a start; maybe if he-

Pain.

It stabbed through him like a surgeon’s knife, like electricity; it swallowed up the screen and the room and Peter. He thought he screamed; he didn’t know, didn’t know much of anything until he opened his eyes again to find himself lying on the ground, Peter’s ugly face hovering over him. ‘-he’s awake,’ he was saying into his comms. ‘Rocket? What happened? You okay?’

No. No he wasn’t okay, and if the idiot Terran had to ask he was more of a brainless loser than Rocket had thought. He managed to glare at Peter, but talking was harder. Even breathing hurt. What’d happened?

He thought he knew. Peter reached for him, and he managed to weakly bare his teeth, warning him off. Had to pull himself together enough to talk, or the d’ast idiot might try something really stupid, like moving him. He’d had worse than this, he should get it together. ‘M fine. It’ll wear off. It’s...’ He took a breath, cursing his own inability to do so much as talk. He was pathetic. ‘Attacks the interface between. Cybernetics and the nervous system. Hurts for a bit but. That’s all. Meant for Nebula.’ He took another breath. He wasn’t the only one with modifications. ‘Warn the others.’

Peter nodded, still frowning. ‘Right.’ He relayed a slightly mangled version of everything Rocket had said through the comms, while Rocket tried not to move. Stupid. Now he was stuck here because he was enough of an idiot to go poking things instead of remembering his own warning about traps. Knowing it would wear off didn’t help. Never had, back on Halfworld, where it’d been an easy way to control him, to punish him. And now he was right back where he’d started, lying in some kind of bleach-stinking facility with a torture chamber built in,  _helpless_.

‘Rocket?’ he opened his eyes again to Peter, frowning down at him in some semblance of concern. That had to be a lie. Who cared about him? ‘Can you move?’

‘Not for another fifteen minutes.’

‘The others don’t have fifteen minutes,’ Peter said. ‘I could carry you-’

‘If you want me screaming in your ear.’ Any kind of movement would be agony until the zap wore off.

‘Okay,’ Peter said, and Rocket knew what he was going to say next. ‘I’ll go get the shield down. be as quick as I can. You should be okay in here, doesn’t look like anyone ever comes in this room-’

‘You won’t come back.’ Damn. He hadn’t meant to say that, what other kind of stupid stuff was gonna sneak out while he was distracted by being in a ton of fucking pain?

Peter went very silent; Rocket kept his eyes shut, didn’t want to see his face. ‘Of course I’m coming back,’ Peter said, and Rocket felt his hand come to rest, very gently, over his arm. Didn’t help. ‘We’re a team. We don’t leave anyone behind.’

Rocket didn’t say anything. If he did, it was gonna be something ridiculous and scared and Peter was gonna laugh about it with the others later on, when they’d left Rocket here. Where he belonged, as a specimen, as a thing. He knew he wasn’t thinking straight, knew it was the pain and the memories pushing him back into the past, but... but Peter wasn’t coming back, and his brain wouldn’t shut up about the fear.

‘Here,’ Peter said, letting go of his arm, and a few seconds later, set down something small and hard, right up against Rocket’s side. Rocket opened his eyes and looked down to see Peter’s Zune.

‘Why’d you bring that, you moron?’ he asked automatically. ‘It’s gonna get broke. And I ain’t gonna fix it.’ It was his  _Zune_. What was he leaving that here for?

‘You know I’ll come back for this, right?’ Peter asked. ‘I went back into the Kyln to get my Walkman, I’m definitely coming back for this. So as long as it’s by your side, you know I’m coming back for you too.’

Rocket’s chest hurt, and it wasn’t just because of the zap. He knew how much the Zune meant to that stupid idiot. He shouldn’t be leaving it here just to make Rocket feel better. It worked, though.

‘Rocket?’ Peter said, apparently not going to leave unless Rocket gave him the go-ahead.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Don’t screw it up.’

‘That’s your job,’ Peter said, and then he was rising to his feet and heading out the door, leaving Rocket, temporarily, alone in the room with the alarms blaring from the corridor.

Well. All that racket, no one was gonna hear a little music. Rocket extended one arm, wincing as every one of his nerves protested, and hit the play button. Fortunately Peter liked his music ear-bleeding loud, so Rocket could still hear it even with the alarms and the buds being nowhere near his ears. Some guy singing, too fast-paced for him to make out the words till they got to the chorus.

 _It’s the end of the world as we know it,_  
_It’s the end of the world as we know it,_  
_It’s the end of the world as we know it,_  
_And I feel fine._

 *

They reached the lowest level of the compound without difficulty, and passed through the slight blue glow that marked the edge of the forcefield keeping Nebula trapped. Gamora’s fists tightened as she stepped through. It was barbaric, keeping her sister imprisoned with something that would tear the very implants from her body if she tried to escape. And setting the kind of trap Rocket had been caught in, that attacked cybernetic implants - these people were deliberately targeting the atrocities that Thanos had done to her.

There were fewer guards, now, and more people in plain clothes or dull coveralls. They were the ones behind this, she knew - the guards were hired; these were the ones who’d taken it upon themselves to kidnap and imprison and torture her sister, and her sword cut swifter through the air as they got closer to their goal. Drax and Kraglin fought by her side with knives and blasters, ensuring their opponents never had a chance to overwhelm with numbers. Mantis stayed behind them, mostly out of the way. She and Groot had taken out more than a few between them, though - he bringing them down with vines and Mantis quickly making them sleep.

She fell into a rhythm, running forward and stopping to fight a new enemy and running forward again, and then they reached a large metal door with signs warning that it should not be opened without authorisation and a large lock panel to one side. This must be the room. She curled her fingers into a fist and ignored the temptation to open the door herself, thinking of what had happened to Rocket. She hoped he would be okay - but she had to set her concern aside till later.

Kraglin came up beside her a second later, reaching for the door lock, but she caught his wrist before he could touch it. ‘Your fin,’ she said, and he blinked in surprise, putting a hand to his head where the red fin rested. Easy to forget, she supposed, when you weren’t used to thinking of yourself as having implants like that.

‘Oh, right...’

‘Drax?’ Gamora called. ‘Open this door.’

‘With pleasure,’ he said, setting his hand to the lock panel. It flashed red, and Drax frowned. ‘It appears to allow only recognised people to enter.’

‘I could find someone and make them compliant?’ Mantis offered.

‘I have a quicker way,’ Gamora said, and walked to the nearest crumpled body, taking out her sword. He wouldn’t be needing his hand any more, and it was the work of a moment to remove it.

Mantis gave a little gasp of surprise, but didn’t look terribly upset. Gamora took the hand and placed it on the scanner, careful not to touch the surface herself. She was concerned the lock wouldn’t recognise a deceased hand, in which case Mantis would have to find someone instead - but it flashed white, and the door slid open.

She was inside the room before the door had even finished opening, and there, finally, was Nebula. She was strapped to a table, and Gamora was looking for injuries even as she stepped closer to her sister’s side. To her relief, there was no obvious physical damage - but she recognised a number of the machines around the room, the kind that were designed to cause pain without severe injury, prolonging the length of time someone could be tortured for and still live. And they’d used them on her sister.

Nebula’s eyes opened as she moved closer. ‘Gamora?’ Even her  _voice_ sounded tired. And Gamora knew what it took to make her sister scream.

She set the severed hand down at Nebula’s side, where her sister could see it. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t have chance to set it in resin for you,’ she said.

Nebula glanced at the hand, then stared at her. ‘Why are you here?’

‘To rescue you.’ The others were guarding the door behind her, perhaps sensing that this was a moment for the two of them; she was grateful for it. Setting actions to words, she reached for the restraints, tugging at them briefly before deciding to simply cut through them with her sword. ‘Hold still. I don’t want to cut you by accident.’

‘I did not need rescuing,’ Nebula said, watching Gamora as she started to saw at the the bonds. She didn’t move, though. ‘I was more than capable of escaping, given enough time.’

‘I know,’ Gamora said. The first restraint came free, and she moved on to the next one. ‘But you’re my sister and you were in trouble, so I came to help. That’s what being family means. You take care of each other.’ That was something she remembered dimly from her childhood before Thanos - something she’d learnt again from her new family.

Nebula looked at her, wide-eyed and confused, in a way Gamora didn’t think she would have allowed herself to look if she wasn’t in pain from the torture. She remembered Nebula looking at her in just the same way when they were young and she was new. Her younger sister had very quickly learnt not to question anything about their lives as daughters of Thanos, but she still kept looking like that, demanding to know why, frightened and alone and needing to understand.

Gamora set her hand on Nebula’s arm briefly, trying to comfort her. She hadn’t done anything to help back then. This time she was determined to do better.

Nebula said nothing, so Gamora carried on removing the restraints as quickly as possible. ‘Done,’ she said, setting her sword back at her hip. ‘Can you walk?’

‘Of course,’ Nebula said, and swung her legs off the side of the table - and inevitably crumpled to the floor, hissing. Drax hovered in the doorway, looking concerned, Gamora waved him off. ‘It’s fine. I’ll carry you,’ she told Nebula, bending to scoop her off the floor. Nebula was an awkward weight in her arms, neither relaxing into the hold nor making it any easier for Gamora to carry her - but she didn’t protest, either. 

Now all they needed to do was get back to the ship. She headed out into the corridor, where Drax and Kraglin were ready to flank her, protect her and her sister while she couldn’t easily fight. Despite the weight, Gamora felt lighter than she had in days. Now all they need to do was get out, and there was only one real obstacle in their way.

‘Peter?’ she called through the comms. ‘How’s the shield coming along?’

*

‘Working on it,’ Peter said, stepping into the main control room. He ducked a shot immediately, dropping to a crouch and returning fire - with much better aim than anyone in the room. Someone had given the admin staff guns but that didn’t mean they knew how to use them.

It took a few seconds to take the lot of them out, and a few more to get hold of their weapons, just in case any of them recovered enough to shoot. Next step: the shield. ‘It would really help if you had a big red button labelled “shield off”,’ Peter muttered, scanning the room. Looked like they hadn’t been that generous. There was a console nearby with someone slumped unconscious over it; he pushed them to the floor, took their seat, and started trying to find whatever controlled the forcefield. He wished Rocket were here; he could probably just crawl inside the thing and cut a wire or something and they’d be done.

And the thought of Rocket waiting for him wasn’t making it any easier to focus.

‘While you are removing the shield, turn off this irritating alarm,’ Drax said over the comms. ‘My ears are in pain.’

‘Yours and everyone else’s. Little busy trying to stop Gamora’s sister getting turned into metal-free soup,’ Peter said, skimming through the system list. It looked like - there; the shield shutdown command. he tapped the screen - and up came a confirmation box asking for his password.

Great.

He looked around, and noticed one of the admin staff was awake, lying on her side and staring up at him murderously. ‘Hey, blondie. Don’t suppose you know the password?’

‘Do you seriously think I would  _give_ it to you?’ she ground out, voice laboured. ‘Treacherous scum-’

Peter levelled his blaster at her. With the other hand, he went back to scrolling through the computer options. Hey, he might as well try to do something about the alarm while he was waiting.

‘I won’t tell you,’ she said, with all the confidence of someone who’d never faced down the business end of a blaster. ‘Do you know what she did to us? I’d rather die than let her escape. This is justice.’

‘Yeah, because torturing someone really gives you the moral high ground here,’ Peter said. ‘You want to get mad at someone? Get mad at Thanos. Not someone who broke away from his control and is trying to kill him.’ Gamora hadn’t told him much about what being a daughter of Thanos was like, but she’d told him a few things, and he’d pieced others together. Enough to make him pretty angry on behalf of anyone that maniac had “adopted”.

The woman didn’t say anything, and he was getting impatient. he shifted his blaster to the right and fired a warning shot, right by her head, then looked at her expectantly. She gave a little shriek, and swallowed hard.

‘It’s... it’s _justice for Zinnari_. All one word. With - with a zero instead of the O. Please don’t kill me...’

‘See, that wasn’t so hard,’ he said, tapping the password in. The screen flashed: shield down. ‘Gamora? Forcefield’s out, you’re safe to take Nebula through. I’ll pick up Rocket, meet you where we came in. Oh, and Drax?’ He hit another button, and the alarms finally cut out. ‘Better?’

‘I have not appreciated silence so much in a long time.’

He ignored the blonde woman on the floor as he headed out. ‘Did you hear that Rocket? I’m heading your way.’

‘I ain’t gone deaf, you idiot.’

Peter grinned to himself as he jogged down the corridors. Sounded like he was feeling better.

*

Mantis kept to the back of the group on the way out, as she had done on the way in. Groot rode on her shoulder and watched the fight with wide eyes, yelling insults at their enemies At least, she thought he was. She couldn’t understand his words, but he didn’t mind her reading his emotions, and she could feel his glee or anger as he spoke.

She wished she could do more to help them escape. This wasn’t like the fight in the bar, where she’d been useful; she had helped keep people from panicking, kept them from pushing and shoving and hurting themselves. There weren’t any people who needed to be kept calm here. She had made a few of the soldiers sleep, but not many, and she knew the others would have taken care of them if she wasn’t here. She had been useless.

Drax had told her a few weeks ago that she didn’t need to be useful any more, but she still wanted to be. Knowing that she hadn’t been made her nervous. She wished she’d gone with Rocket and Peter; at least that way she could have kept Rocket company while Peter went to take the shield down.

‘I am Groot?’ asked Groot, and she felt the little tree’s emotions; he was concerned. For her.

She smiled at him. ‘I am fine,’ she told him. ‘I did not mean to show that I was worried on my face.’

‘I am Groot.’ She did not understand that one, so she simply smiled more.

There were footsteps ahead; they’d run into another group of soldiers. Mantis ducked around a corner, staying out of the way. This time, Gamora joined her, Nebula still cradled awkwardly in her arms. It worried Mantis a little, that there were only Drax and Kraglin to fight so many people. But they were both very good at fighting, and Gamora didn’t look worried, so she thought it must be okay.

She tried to smile at Nebula while they waited, since it was a good way to get people to like you if you did it properly. Nebula didn’t smile back, though.

And then there was a shout of pain from around the corner - Kraglin’s voice - and before Mantis could wonder what had happened, a man appeared. He was dressed in the black outfit all the guards wore, and he had a blaster, which he was pointing at Nebula and Gamora, and they could not fight right now...

Mantis ran at him, and when he shot at her she pivoted and dodged just as Gamora had taught her, and reached out one hand to press it against his neck. ‘Sleep!’ she said, putting the force of her abilities behind it, and the man dropped to the ground.

She looked over at Gamora, who had stepped forward, smiling. ‘Your footwork was perfect,’ she said, and Mantis beamed at her. ‘Thank you.’ Mantis did not recognise the expression on her face - it was not one she had never learnt, on Ego’s world - and Gamora would not want her to use her powers to find out. But Mantis thought - hoped - it might be pride.

‘It was nothing compared to how you fight,’ she said. ‘I could not have done it if you hadn’t taught me.’

Nebula was rolling her eyes, but Gamora looked pleased. ‘We should see what happened,’ she said - the sounds of fighting had finished, now - and stepped out around the corner. Mantis followed. ‘Kraglin? Are you alright?’

‘He was struck by a shot from a blaster,’ Drax said, frowning at Kraglin’s hand. It looked red and burnt, and very painful.

‘It’s nothing serious. Heal right up in a few days. But I won’t be shooting any more till it does - won’t be able to pull a trigger with it like this, and I ain’t much good with my left. Old injury,’ he explained, sounding like he did not like to admit it.

Gamora nodded. ‘We should be fine. We’re nearly out of the building, and we’ve cleared out most of the guards already. Peter and Drax can take care of any stragglers.’

*

Kraglin cradled his injured arm close to his chest, trying not to wince. Every step he took made it shake, and that sent jolts of pain running down his arm. Should’ve seen that shot coming. At least it was him, and not one of the others - he healed fine from burns, but a lot of other species weren’t as lucky.

They got to the door they’d come in by, and Peter was already waiting for them. Rocket was curled up in his left arm, looking furious, and glaring at all of them like he was daring them to say something about it. Kraglin knew better than to mention anything and looked like the rest of them did too. ‘Thought you guys were never going to show up,’ Peter said, with a bit of a smirk.

Rocket rolled his eyes. ‘We’ve been here less than a minute. Stop trying to show off for Gamora, she ain’t even interested.’

Peter went a little pink; Gamora very deliberately didn’t look at him. Kraglin was starting to think those two needed to have a conversation, especially after what Peter had talked to him about. ‘We should get back to the ship,’ Gamora said quietly, stepping forwards to the door. Drax opened it, allowing her and Nebula through first; the rest followed and Kraglin brought up the rear.

He hadn’t taken more than two steps in the fresh air when the whine of a whole load of blasters powering up made his ears prick, and a ton more guards stepped out of the bushes and trees surrounding them. ‘Don’t move,’ one of them ordered. ‘Surrender the criminal and we’ll let you live.’

Shit.

There were at least twenty, twenty five of them. More than they could take on, Kraglin knew. Drax and Peter were the only ones who could fight right now, and Peter had to keep hold of Rocket. Even if he and Gamora put the people they was carrying down, that was only three of them, and they’d have to defend the ones that couldn’t fight. No way they were getting out of this one without someone getting shot or killed. He cursed the shot that’d burnt his hand; if only he could shoot it might be enough to help...

Except he had other weapons than just his blasters. And Yondu’s arrow didn’t need hands to fly. He still hadn’t managed to fly it reliably, not once, but they were out of options. Didn’t have much to lose.

He pushed his coat aside, the same gesture as Yondu always used, and took a moment to ready himself. Use his heart, not his head. Peter had told him what Yondu said, and said that back on Ego’s planet he’d thought about his friends and the people that mattered and that’d let him use his Celestial powers - but that was powers, not the arrow. And whenever Kraglin had thought of his friends - thrown out the airlock because of him, floating in space - the arrow had gone right off course, almost flying through his eye more than once.

Kraglin looked at the mismatched group gathered in front of him, frozen as they weighed their options, and decided to think of something else.

He started by thinking of Peter. The annoying Terran brat who’d whined and stolen shit and bit and never been where he was supposed to be, who’d grown up into... well, someone Kraglin kind of cared about, and not just for Yondu’s sake. Someone who make Kraglin want to follow him, like Yondu had. Someone who he’d told stuff he’d never told no one before. He looked to the others, making himself think of good things about them, like Peter’d said. Getting drunk with Rocket when they were remembering Yondu. Whistling tunes for Groot to dance to. Trying to explain a metaphor to Drax and getting so turned round even he didn’t know what it meant any more. Showing Mantis round the marketplace, with her all excited and seeing everything new.  Sharing an eye roll with Gamora over Peter doing something stupid.

Starting to feel like maybe he could belong here. Definitely feeling like he didn’t want to lose any of these people to a bunch of guards with guns.

And he thought about Yondu, saving the day so many times with a whistle and a slash of light. Protecting Peter, protecting his crew - the loyal ones, anyways - protecting Kraglin too, though he hadn’t always paid attention to it. And now that arrow was his, and he was gonna do Yondu proud.

He wet his lips, and didn’t let himself think too hard about it, and whistled.

The arrow flew from its holster faster than Kraglin’s eye could follow, but somehow he could still hold it in his mind. It pierced through half a dozen men before anyone could even realise, and half a dozen more before they could do anything. The last few raised their blasters to fire, but Peter and Drax already had them covered. The arrow thudded through the last man and back to Kraglin’s hand.

The world was silent for a moment, and then all the others turned to look at him. Kraglin felt himself get a little warm. Didn’t like being the subject of all that attention.

Peter whooped, holstering his blaster to throw a fist in the air and then clap Kraglin on the shoulder, Rocket complaining about getting jostled. ‘That was amazing! How’d you do that, I thought you couldn’t fly it yet?’

Kraglin shrugged. ‘Weren’t anything Yondu couldn’t have done,’ he said. ‘And I couldn’t do it till right then. Guess the pressure was what I needed to figure it out, or something.’

‘I’m glad you did,’ Gamora said, smiling. She was holding her sister, so she didn’t clap him on the shoulder or anything, but Drax did, and then Mantis too - acting like she was copying everyone else doing something she didn’t understand. ‘Let’s celebrate back at the ship,’ Gamora went on. ‘We don’t know if there’s more reinforcements on the way.’

Peter handed Kraglin a scrap of cloth as they headed back, and Kraglin did his best to clean the arrow one-handed as they walked. Truth be told, he kept rubbing at it longer than he really needed to, just as excuse to keep it in his hand. To keep remembering that he’d done it, that he’d saved his friends. He figured his old friends, all the ones that had gone out that airlock while Kraglin watched helplessly, would have been glad. Been proud.

They got back to the ship without running into anyone else, and headed back to the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used in this chapter is R.E.M.'s _It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)_. Thanks for reading  <3


	6. A Song of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are: the final chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck with this to the end, and once again to everyone who helped, encouraged, betaed and supported me writing this. Without further ado, on to the story!

The hand she had given Gamora sat on a small shelf in the cupboard-size room, where it was visible from the bed. Nebula had considered the reasons for that placement a dozen times since Gamora had installed her in this room and told her to get some rest - purely from having nothing else to do on board this ship of idiots. She did not need to rest any more; she was fully recovered. Normally with little to do she would train, to keep herself ready for the day when she would slowly tear Thanos into pieces. But Gamora’s room was too small to do much, and to enter one of the larger areas of the ship would require her to be around Gamora’s collection of assorted misfits.

There was a knock at the door, as though merely thinking of their existence had summoned one of them to her room. Most people were sensible enough to avoid a Daughter of Thanos, but living with Gamora had clearly dulled these creatures’ sense of danger. The fox had been past earlier and offered to build her an explosive device if she required one (which she had accepted, because such a thing was always useful). The half-Terran  - who her sister mooned over for no reason Nebula could understand - had asked if she wanted to listen to music since she must be bored, as if he thought she might have any interest in his ridiculous Earth relics. The infant tree had petted her hair and grown her a few flowers; they sat wilting on the floor beside the bed.

Nebula was very suspicious that her sister had asked them all to come by.

And this knock may well be another so-called Guardian of the Galaxy here to annoy her, but any of them would be slightly more interesting than staring at a severed hand. ‘Enter.’ she called out.

The door opened, and Gamora came in, smiling at her. It was still strange to see such an expression on her face; Nebula couldn’t recall seeing her smile in this way before she had broken away from Thanos. Now she seemed to do so often. ‘Hey,’ she said, leaning on the doorframe. ‘Just wanted to let you know dinner’s going to be a little late. Drax and Groot are arguing about vegetables again, and Rocket got sick of translating, so it could be a while before they begin cooking.’ 

Nebula didn’t understand why Gamora was telling her this, when the only knowledge she required was the delay in schedule. Why did the reason matter to her? It certainly seemed to matter to Gamora - although she looked more amused than irritated.

She nodded. ‘Understood.’

‘You look bored,’ Gamora said, stepping into the room - and then frowning at the bottle of medicine on the nightstand. ‘Have you taken your painkillers?’

‘I do not require them.’

‘Are you in pain?’ Gamora asked. Nebula rolled her eyes and did not answer. She was always in pain; all that changed was its degree. Thanos had torn the limbs from her body and replaced them with metal and circuitry, and she was going to repay him for every last moment of agony she had experienced at his hands. Gamora knew that, and knew that the additional pain she felt as the result of the torture wasn’t enough to impair her.

Gamora picked up the bottle of painkillers and sat beside her on the bed. It was a small bed; she was close enough for Nebula to feel the warmth of her body. ‘Take the painkillers,’ she insisted. ‘Just because you can tolerate the pain doesn’t mean you should have to.’

‘I don’t need them.’

Gamora put her hand over Nebula’s. ‘Thanos doesn’t rule us any more.’ she said. ‘We don’t have to suffer through things just because we can. Part of being free - part of being people - is that we get taken care of when we’re hurt. Let me help.’ She shook two small pills into her hand and held them out to her. 

Nebula didn’t quite understand, not completely, but she saw that it was important to Gamora. So she sighed - just to let her know she was doing this under protest - and took the pills, swallowing them quickly. She might not need it, but that unfamiliar smile was back on Gamora’s face, so she supposed it was worthwhile anyway.

There was silence for a little while longer, before Gamora spoke again. ‘We’ll be at Weirholt tomorrow,’ she said. Which Nebula already knew. Weirholt was the planet she had requested to be taken to so she could continue her mission of destroying Thanos utterly, and there had been no delays to their flight. ‘Are you sure you still want to leave? You could stay a little longer, get some more rest.’

Nebula glared. ‘I am not going to stay with you and your pathetic Guardians,’ she insisted. ‘I need to kill Thanos, not wander through the galaxy with your insipid team of misfits.’

‘I know, I know,’ Gamora said, holding up her hands to stave her off. ‘I wouldn’t try to stop you. But there’s nothing wrong with taking time to rest somewhere safe for a while either. At least till you’ve fully recovered.’

‘I have already told you, I am  _recovered_.’

Gamora glanced down, and nodded. ‘Okay. But there is always room for you on this ship, if you need it.’

‘There is no room for me on this ship. You’re sleeping in the cockpit so I can have your bed,’ Nebula pointed out.

‘I was speaking metaphorically,’ Gamora said, looking more amused than anything. ‘That was almost as bad as Drax. What I meant to say was, if you need to come back here for any reason, you’re always welcome. The cockpit seats aren’t so bad; we’ve both slept in much worse.’

Nebula wondered if all those visits from Gamora’s odd mixture of friends had been trying to say the same thing. ‘I will come back if I need to,’ she said, since that was obviously what Gamora wanted to hear, and merely saying that did not hold her to any promise.

Gamora’s smile brightened again. ‘And you don’t have to go after Thanos completely alone, either. We’re calling ourselves the Guardians of the Galaxy, after all - and Thanos certainly counts as a threat to the galaxy. If there’s something you need back up for, something where you’d do better with a team - let us know.’

Nebula considered that. It was an unusual idea. Daughters of Thanos always worked alone, were completely self-reliant. She was proud not to need anyone else. But even so, she had often thought that there were times she would have been more efficient if she was permitted to work with assistance. Even a Daughter of Thanos could not be in two places at once. The idea of having those people should she require them, of occasionally having a - a team, she supposed, like Gamora’s... ‘I will keep that in mind, sister,’ she said, with more sincerity than before.

 *

Sleeping in the cockpit of the  _Milano_ was surprisingly pleasant. With the exception of being woken at least twice a night by sleepless people wandering through, of course. But this part, when she was curled in a warm blanket on one of the pilot’s seats, the ship’s lights off and the glow of the stars illuminating everything - it was beautiful. She wished her tiny room had a window, or at least a projection of one, Rocket would be able to rig one up, she thought. Perhaps she would ask him when he was in a good mood - or when he needed distracting from making experimental explosives.

Peace never lasted long on this ship, and after only a few minutes, Gamora heard quiet footsteps coming into the room behind her. She didn’t need to look to know who it was; she recognised the way Peter walked. ‘Hey,’ he said, walking into the room

‘Hey.’

He stopped by the other chair, leaning on its back and looking out at the stars. ‘You trying to sleep? I can leave you alone if you want.’

She considered saying yes. Things were still a little awkward between them - neither of them knew quite where they stood with the other, it seemed. And she hated that awkwardness, hated the way it came between them, when talking to Peter had always felt so natural and easy before. But she preferred not ignore her problems - and the best way to move past that awkwardness was by carrying on as normal. ‘I’m not tired yet,’ she told him. ‘I was just watching the stars.’

‘They’re pretty,’ he agreed - and then the conversation fell straight into the awkwardness she’d been hoping to avoid, neither one of them knowing what to say next.. Gamora frowned at the stars and tried to think of something to say. Maybe she should suggest that Peter play some music? She still hadn’t heard all the songs on his Zune.

‘How’s Nebula doing?’ he asked.

‘She’s fine. Too stubborn to take her painkillers, but I talked her into it.’

‘Still planning on leaving when we get to Weirholt?’ Gamora nodded, and Peter drummed his fingers against the headrest of the chair, frowning at the stars. ‘You’re not... I mean. Are you thinking of going with her?’

Gamora blinked in surprise. ‘No? What made you think I was?’ she asked. Unless it wasn’t that he thought it so much that he hoped for it. She sat up, swivelling to face him. ‘Do you want me to leave?’

‘What? No!’ He sat down heavily in the chair, facing her. ‘Of course I don’t want you to leave! Why would you think that?’

‘You asked,’ she pointed out. ‘And things have been awkward, lately.’

‘You think I’d kick you out just because of  _that_?’ Peter asked. ‘I don’t want you to leave. Ever. I mean, I’d probably be dead five times over without you and... you know. We’re friends. Right?’

She nodded, smiling a little at his momentary uncertainty. ‘Right.’

‘I was just afraid you wanted to leave. She’s your sister. I know she’s important to you.’

Gamora relaxed again against the chair, curled up on her side, and pulled the blanket back over herself. ‘She is. But - so are all of you. Drax was right, when he called us a family.’ And she did hope that Nebula would one day decide to join them. But even if it never happened... her place was here, with these people. This was where she belonged.

‘Yeah, that’s what we are. A family.’ He was smiling, but it slipped off his face a little as he added, ‘Me and you,’ and she could guess why. That kind of relationship to each other wasn’t truly what either of them wanted - merely the best they could have.

‘You and me,’ she said.

Peter turned to look out of the window at the stars, fidgeting slightly in his seat. ‘You know. I was wondering. About that... not-so-unspoken-thing.’

‘Don’t.’

‘No, this is important, okay? I’ve been thinking a lot, since you told me, about… all kinds of stuff, and trying to figure things out. And - if I gave up having sex, do you think we could give it another go?’

Her first reaction was hope - a treacherous emotion, too quick to grab for what it wanted, because she knew immediately that it wouldn’t work. Peter loved sex; he could no more give up that than he could give up his music. Perhaps they would be happy for a while, but such a suggestion couldn’t end in anything but disaster. She stared at Peter, who looked so hopeful, and her fists curled in anger. How dare he, even for an instant, give her this kind of false hope?

‘No,’ she snapped, and Peter’s face shaded into hurt. She threw the blanket back, slipping off the seat; she couldn’t stay here. ‘Don’t ever suggest something like that again.’

She made to walk out, but Peter stuck his arm out between the two seats, blocking her way. She could get past in a dozen ways, including breaking the arm or simply slipping around it, but the look on Peter’s face made her pause. ‘Woah, woah, hang on a minute, what did I say?’

Gamora closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. ‘It would never work.’

‘Why not?’

‘You can’t give up sex for me,’ she said. ‘It’ll make you miserable. I’m missing something, Peter, I can’t give you what you need, I can never make you happy and you need to stop throwing that in my face.’

Peter stared at her, and she used the moment to push his arm aside and walk towards the door. A second later, though, he was on his feet behind her. ‘That’s bullshit, Gamora,’ he said, and she span around in anger. ‘First off, now who’s the one talking like there’s something wrong with not being into people? If I said you were missing something-’

‘But you didn’t, I said it about myself-’

‘-then you’d eat my liver for lunch or something. Second,’ he added, voice rising, ‘you are worth giving up anything for, okay? Like, music or food or piloting the Milano-’

‘If you gave up food you’d be dead, you imbecile!’

‘And thirdly where’d you get the idea that I was giving it up for  _your sake_  anyway, you self-centred ass!’

And that was unexpected enough to shock her into silence.

In the pause that followed, a door further into the ship creaked open. ‘If you wanna argue, stick a space suit on and go stand out on the hull!’ Rocket yelled. ‘Some people are trying to sleep!’

Without breaking eye contact with her, Peter shouted, ‘It’s my ship and I’ll argue where I want, and if you don’t like it you can drown us out by sticking your furry head in the engine!’

The door slammed, but fortunately Rocket didn’t make an appearance. At least the interruption seemed to have broken through their anger. The silence stretched on a few moments longer while Gamora gathered her thoughts. ‘Why else would you give up sex?’ she asked.

Peter sighed and ran a hand through his hair. ‘It’s kind of a long story?’ he said. He leaned against the wall, then slid down it so he was sitting comfortably on the floor. He gestured to the spot beside him, looking a little uncertain - no doubt fearing she was still angry enough to walk away. Gamora considered for a moment, then decided to let herself listen to that little treacherous voice of hope, and sat down beside him. 

She waited for Peter to explain, though he seemed to have difficulty doing so. He kept running his hand over one of his pockets; Gamora guessed it held his Zune. He had a habit of touching it when he was struggling with something, as he had done with his Walkman - and she could see the headphone wire hanging out of his pocket. ‘Put some music on,’ she suggested.

‘Good idea. Though I guess I’d better keep it quiet if I don’t want Rocket to use my skull as a plantpot for Groot.’ He pulled the Zune from his pocket, fiddling with it. 

‘He wouldn’t do that. Groot would be too upset. And your skull is too small for him anyway.’

‘You implying I’m stupid?’ Peter asked with an odd half-smile, as music began to play through the speakers - thanks to Rocket, who’d rigged up something that allowed the Zune to play wirelessly. It wasn’t a song she’d heard before - something about a lonely girl taking the train at midnight? ‘I guess it started when you told me how you felt about people and sex,’ Peter began. ‘And I was a real dumbass about it then, but it got me thinking about stuff.’

‘Stuff?’

‘How people feel about it. Being attracted to people. I didn’t even realise not being attracted was an option before? And then you talked about it, and Drax was the same, and Rocket and Kraglin-’

‘Kraglin as well?’ Gamora asked. ‘That’s… most of the team.’

‘Yeah. Mantis might be too - she’s still figuring stuff out, but she said that kind of attraction felt strange and she hadn’t experienced it yet, so there’s that. Uh, I kind of asked her about it since she’s an empath. And she went round that bar on Doratin reading people and then came back and showed me what it was like. It was...’ He paused, looking down at the floor, flexing his right hand. ‘Well, it was nothing I’d ever felt before. Which answered that question.’

Gamora remembered how quiet he’d been after that mission, almost hiding from the rest of the crew. She had realised her differences slowly, and it had still been difficult; having it shown to you, swiftly and vividly, must have been unpleasant. She shifted a little closer to him, letting her shoulder lean against his. ‘But you still enjoy sex despite it,’ she said; that was what it came down to, after all. ‘Don’t you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So why would you wish to give it up?’

He sighed, tipping his head back against the wall. ‘I talked to Kraglin about... well, about growing up Ravager. They weren’t the most enlightened bunch.’ He sounded angry about that. ‘Like I said, I didn’t know not being into people was an option. And having sex was just what you did, long as you were old enough. So I did. And if you were pretty enough to pick up girls without paying for them, you got a lot of respect when you came back. Guys slapping you on the back and buying you drinks. When they took me from Earth, I was a skinny little kid half of them wanted to eat and the others wanted to dump out the airlock - getting laid was the first time any of them had actually been impressed by me, and the sex was fun enough, so I kept doing it. And now I don’t know whether I’m having sex because it’s fun or because I’m still trying to impress a bunch of dead Ravagers.’

‘That sounds...’ Gamora didn’t know what to say. ‘Confusing.’

‘Yeah. And it’s all your fault.’ He said it with a teasing smile, and she laughed. ‘So I figure maybe I should just, not. At least until I figure it out. So that’s why, and it’s not...  _for you_  or anything. I just thought, if if sex was the main problem and I don’t even want it right now, maybe we could give our unspoken thing another try? Unless you secretly hate me, of course.’

‘I don’t secretly hate you,’ she said. The rest of it... well, that was harder to answer. She wanted to say yes, wanted to believe this could work, but... ‘What happens if you decide you do want sex because it’s fun?’

‘Then we sit down and talk about it like the grown adults we definitely are not. Or yell at each other about it. And maybe we break up, but even if we do, I won’t let it stop us being friends,’ he said, and he sounded so fiercely sincere that she could actually believe him. ‘Besides even if I was one hundred percent into sex and attracted to people and everything? It wouldn’t stop you and me from working. Didn’t stop Drax and his wife, anyway. Seriously, I asked Drax _one question_ about how that worked and he went on for like twenty minutes assuring me that she was “never unsatisfied” and telling me about all the sex toys she had. In detail.’

Gamora couldn’t help but laugh, more at the look on his face than the conversation. ‘I will make sure not to make the same mistake.’

They fell quiet for a moment, the music in the background softly filling in the silence. ‘So,’ Peter said. ‘Are we actually doing this?’

Her heart said yes. She was still scared of all the many ways this could go wrong, but... it felt like the fear of running from Thanos. Terrifying, yes, to leave behind the familiar and fling yourself into a new world - but she wanted this, wanted to grab the possibility with both hands.

‘We’re actually doing this,’ she said. ‘Although I’m not sure where to go from here.’

Peter’s face lit up like she’d given him a dozen mixtapes. ‘Well, kissing is traditional, although we’ve already thrown traditional out the window so we don’t have to kiss if you don’t want to? Especially if you’re going to pull a knife on me again.’

‘You’re babbling.’

‘Well, yeah, a girl who is way too amazing for me just said she’d be my girlfriend, so.’ He grinned at her and took her hand, pressing a kiss to the knuckles. It was a ridiculous gesture, but sweet.

‘Since you’ve been polite enough to ask this time, I won’t pull a knife on you,’ she promised. ‘Although I’m not sure I’ll do it properly.’

‘You haven’t kissed anyone before?’

‘Romantic entanglements weren’t exactly encouraged as a daughter of Thanos,’ she pointed out. ‘And I’ve not had opportunity to since.’ That wasn’t entirely true. There were any number of occasions, mostly in bars, where she could quite easily have found a willing partner. But she hadn’t been interested. She’d wanted Peter, and thought she could never have him, and now...

Now he was looking at her, a little flushed, a little wide-eyed. ‘Makes sense,’ he said. ‘And you want to now? Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

Peter nodded, shifting a little to face her, and she wondered if she should lean in first. ‘It’s easy,’ he assured her. ‘It’s - like dancing. Just go with the flow.’ He reached up to put a hand on her cheek, and she leaned into it, and then decided he was taking far too long about it and leaned forward to press her lips to his.

It wasn’t quite as easy as he said, and their teeth clicked and noses bumped more than once. But it was lovely, and warm, and close, just the two of them curled together on the floor of the _Milano_ , kissing with Peter’s music playing quietly and the stars lighting their faces. It wasn’t perfect, but perhaps as close as the two of them were ever going to get. And Gamora didn’t think she would change a thing.

_Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter_  
_Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here_  
_Here comes the sun, here comes the sun_  
_And I say it's all right_

*

Peter woke up the next morning way earlier than he usually liked to, but feeling amazing anyway. He curled up, pressing his face into the pillow - and then remembered exactly why he felt so amazing, and grinned.

He was, officially, the luckiest man in the galaxy.  
  
Normally he’d have rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but he felt way too wired to doze off again. He wanted to land somewhere and go running, or fly the _Milano_ through an asteroid field, or - probably the only practical thing on a cramped ship in the middle of nowhere - put some music on and dance around like an idiot. He reached out to the chest by his bed, where he kept his Zune, and then remembered he’d left it in the cockpit last night after talking to Gamora. And kissing Gamora. Because they were officially together now.

Well, that wasn’t hard to fix. He slipped out of bed and threw on the clothes he’d been wearing last night before heading up to the cockpit, trusting to his bare feet and instinctive knowledge of all the creaky spots to keep from waking Gamora up. He stepped inside as quietly as possible, but apparently his tiptoeing wasn’t necessary, because the chair where Gamora was supposed to be sleeping was empty. And on top of that, his Zune was gone as well. He knew exactly where he’d left it; it just wasn’t there.

Which probably meant that Gamora had it - that or Rocket had hidden it again to mess with him, and if he had, Peter was going to dye his fur orange. He wandered around the ship, but it didn’t take long to find Gamora. She was lying on the ship’s rear window, where Groot always glued himself to the glass if there was anything interesting outside - and yup, there was the Zune in her hand, headphone wires shaking their way up to her ears.

She opened her eyes as he stepped in the room. ‘You stole my Zune,’ he said.

‘You shouldn’t have left it behind if you didn’t want me to borrow it.’

He pouted, although it was was a struggle, because she was smiling at him and not smiling back was really difficult. She rolled her eyes, but shuffled up to make room on the glass and pulled out one earbud, holding it out to him in a silent offer. And he might have been buzzing with energy, but lying there and listening to tunes still sounded like the best thing ever.

They settled down together in comfortable silence, Peter tapping his foot to the beat and occasionally humming along. Gamora’s fingers ended up twisted around his, and he couldn’t stop grinning at it. He really hoped this giddy happy about everything feeling wore off soon, because his Star Lord reputation was going to take some serious damage if it didn’t.

One song ended, and some vaguely familiar piano notes started up, although he couldn’t place them until the vocals came in:

_I’m sailing away, set an open course for the-_

He hit the skip button on the Zune, and immediately felt better once something with a lot of drums started up. Gamora glanced at him curiously. ‘Why did you skip that one?’

‘I don’t like it.’

‘I love that song,’ she said, frowning. ‘It reminds me of us. All of us,’ she clarified. ‘The whole team. Why do you dislike it?’

‘Well - -okay, I never actually listened to the whole thing,’ he said. She looked like she was about to protest, so he explained quickly; ‘It’s just, the first line reminds me of Ego. All his bullshit about that other song and how  _my life, my love, my lady is the sea_ , and that somehow meant he had to try and destroy the galaxy.’

‘Just because it mentions the sea?’ Gamora asked, then picked up the Zune and tapped it a few times, until the intro played again. ‘Give it a chance.’

He supposed if she liked it that much he’d give it a try just to see why it reminded her of the team. It was fairly slow and a bit gloomy to start with, then after a few minutes it kicked it up a notch, and okay, maybe he could see why it made her think of their oddball family.

When it faded out, he reached for the Zune and skipped it back to the beginning. Gamora smirked at him, but didn’t say I told you so. She did start singing along, quietly at the beginning, picking up volume as they headed through. ‘I thought that they were angels, but to my surprise, they climbed aboard their starship and headed for the skies,’ she sang, and Peter joined in on the chorus, where at least the words were easy to pick up after one listen;  _come sail away with me..._

Thinking of it as being about sailing away in a spaceship instead of a regular ship did make it easier not to think of Ego. He glanced out the window as the song faded out - and as he clicked it back on to play again - and smiled. ‘Maybe this is the sea.’ Gamora glanced at him, looking puzzled. ‘Like, Ego was giving me all this nonsense about how we’re both like the sailor in _Brandy_ who has to go back to the sea because that’s where he belongs and he can’t leave it, only the sea was turning everything in the galaxy into more of him. But I don’t exist just to be a battery for the asshole who killed my mom. So... this is the sea. This is where I belong. The  _Milano_ , and space, and saving the galaxy, and... and all of us.’

She smiled so brightly that he couldn’t resist leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. ‘You know what?’ he asked. ‘I want to dance. No, wait - actually, what I really want is to wake everyone up by playing this really loudly  through all the speakers. And then leave it on repeat until someone resorts to violence - or, actually, until Rocket screws with the sound system, that’ll probably come first.’

‘Probably,’ Gamora echoed, folding her arms and trying to look stern. ‘I want no part in this. And I’m not saving you from my sister.’

The thought of an angry Nebula did make him pause for half a second, but if she was hitching a ride with them she’d have to get used to it sooner or later. He hit a few buttons on the Zune, connecting it to the ship’s speakers just before the song kicked into high gear.

_...but we’ll try, best that we can, to carry on._

That brought the drums in, and at least two furious yells from different directions on the ship, and he laughed as he pulled Gamora to her feet and spun her round - knowing that they were going to be interrupted any moment by angry Guardians, possibly with knives or blasters or explosives, but right this second?

Life was pretty awesome.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used in this chapter include _Here Comes The Sun_ by The Beatles, and the return of _Come Sail Away_ by Styx.
> 
> The End! I hope you enjoyed the story, and thank you all so much for reading <3.


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